This Would Be Paradise
by theartistprince
Summary: Enjolras couldn't let Eponine do Marius's bidding, at least not while the Revolution plagued the streets of Paris, but she certainly wasn't fit for the battlefield. Still, they needed all the help they could get. How one decision would alter the path of history and stop one group from being forgotten. E/E.
1. Complete Control

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Les Miserables in any format or adaption.

_Man can now fly in the air the air like a bird,_

_Swim through the sea like a fish,_

_He can burrow into the ground like a mole._

_Now if only he could walk the earth like a man,_

_This would be paradise._

_ - Tommy Douglas_

No one had ever accused Enjolras of being a particularly patient man. Though only twenty-two years of age, he felt the distinct crush of time weighing down on him whenever a task took longer than necessary. After all, with every passing day the Revolution took to destroy the ridiculous class divide present in France, more and more impoverished people died needlessly in streets. Enjolras couldn't abide by that.

His severe lack of patience also kept him from entertaining the boyish whims and cluelessness of his friends. He simply did not have the time to listen to them prattle on about the girls and activities that kept them occupied between lectures and plans of rebellion. It just did not seem necessary.

The source of Enjolras's impatience at this moment was one Marius Pontmercy. He felt his blue eyes narrow as he observed Marius talking frantically to Eponine.

Enjolras felt a stab of amusement directed towards the girl through his haze of anger. He was furious she came to the barricades. Didn't she take this seriously? There was a likelihood, no matter how much Enjolras tried to push the thought out of his mind, that many of the people who stood so bravely around him would be killed fighting for equality. The last thing anyone needed to think about was Eponine and her pathetic crush on Marius.

Still, she looked rather funny dressed up as a boy. The lengths that girl would go to just for a moment with her dear Marius were astounding. Almost impressive.

If only she applied herself to something worth her time.

"Please, 'Ponine," Marius begged openly, hands clasping the letter that he had worked so hard on. "Just deliver this note to Cosette. I'll give you anything you want!"

Enjolras shook his head as he eavesdropped on their (admittedly boring) conversation. There was no way he could let the girl, no matter how irritating she could be, wander off as a Revolution waged and was sure to grow around the city.

In three strides, Enjolras walked over to the mismatched duo and tore the letter out of Eponine's hand before turning his attention to Marius.

"Stop gaping, Marius," Enjolras commanded. He saw Eponine duck her head out of the corner of his eye, desperately trying to shield her face from him. "I am well aware that it is you under that cap, Eponine," he said firmly, his voice scolding her.

Turning his attention back to Marius, Enjolras held up the letter. "There is absolutely no way that I am going to let you send Eponine into the streets. In case it failed to grasp your attention, there is a battle waging around you!" Enjolras tucked the letter into his breast pocket, safe from any prying hands. "You may deliver your letter yourself when the battle is won."

"You don't understand, Enjolras! Cosette is leaving, her father is forcing her-"

Enjolras held up a hand, halting Marius impassioned pleading. "All the same, Marius, it is not safe for Eponine to do your bidding tonight."

"I think that Eponine should have a say in that, personally," Eponine interjected firmly. Enjolras rolled his eyes over to the small young woman.

Enjolras shook his head. "Neither of you are not taking this very seriously," he reprimanded. He watched as Eponine's unusually large eyes narrowed at him.

If she had not been forced to starve by the selfish bourgeoisie, she would not look so sickly, Enjolras reminded himself. That thought only cemented his belief that he was doing the right thing.

"Listen, Eponine, the front lines are no place for you. You are untrained in combat and, though we are all aware of how strong your spirit is, you are physically weak due to your malnourishment," Enjolras explained clinically, not particularly caring about the young woman's feelings at that point in time.

He glanced down at her. Despite the patchwork clothing she wore, her dirty face, ratty hair and weak frame, she stood with pride, unwilling to falter under Enjolras's rather intimidating stare.

From what little Enjolras knew of the grisette, he knew it would be impossible to keep her away from the barricades. She was stubborn and burdened by pride, unwilling to ask for help even when she desperately needed it. She had a romantic streak that kept her from seeing reason when Marius was part of the equation. No doubt those romance tales forced into her as a young girl found something alluring in the possibility of dying with her One True Hope.

Still, she would not be an asset on the battlefield.

"If you did truly wish to help us, I would gladly take the offer," Enjolras relented with a sigh.

Eponine glanced over at Marius. She wanted nothing more than to deliver that letter to Cosette, no matter how much it would break her own heart, if only to see her beloved smile in what could possibly be his final hours.

That in mind, she was aware of the sacrifice Enjolras and the other boys were willing to make on behalf of her and the working class. Perhaps if she helped, she could save a few of them. The image of Gavroche sitting on the shoulders of one of the boy's as they traipsed around Paris during the funeral was chief in Eponine's mind as she nodded slowly. "I'll do what I can to help."

"Brilliant," Enjolras responded shortly, grabbing Eponine by the elbow, horrified by the feel of her sharp bones pressing into his palm. The poor girl likely hadn't eaten all day at the very least. "Marius, pay attention to what is going on around you right now. You have the rest of your life to mourn that girl. You have a responsibility to your brothers tonight."

Marius dragged his eyes up to meet Enjolras's and nodded. Enjolras offered the young man a curt nod of his own before walking away, pulling Eponine with him.

"I notice that you have some fine sewing skills, judging from your clothing," Enjolras mentioned as he weaved himself through his fellow students.

Eponine struggled to keep up with his long strides. "I guess," she said with some doubt marring her voice. She pulled her elbow out of Enjolras's grasp. "I don't really see what that has to do with anything."

Once they were out of the rush of students, Enjolras turned and looked down at her. "The army that we are facing is vast to say the least. We are looking at a very bloody battle," Enjolras explained quietly, careful to not let any of the boys hear his doubts.

"With only one medic, we are in a great amount of trouble. We need all the help we can get," Enjolras admitted, his broad shoulders slumping somewhat. "We could really use your help in that field."

Eponine cocked her head to the side. "You mean like a nurse?"

"Somewhat, yes. Keep in mind, Eponine, that you will see our comrades in grave condition before the battle is won," Enjolras warned, worried for Eponine's sensibilities. In truth, Enjolras wasn't completely sure that any of the boys were really aware of what they were getting into.

The thought haunted him.

"I'll do it," Eponine said firmly, resolving herself to her new task.

Enjolras smiled slightly down at her, thankful to the steel nature the girl possessed. "Thank you," he sighed as he inclined his head. "Follow me, then."

Eponine followed Enjolras as he led her to the Cafe Musain.

"You'll find Joly in here. Just tell him that I sent you to assist in any way possible," Enjolras explained before turning away from her to retreat back to the front lines. Eponine looked up at the cafe, the entrance bordered in red revolutionary flags.

Eponine supposed that subtly was no longer necessary.

"Mademoiselle?" Eponine turned as Enjolras touched her shoulder briefly. "Thank you for your assistance," Enjolras said quickly, removing his hand from her shoulder and hurrying back to his troops.

_A/N: So this is my first attempt at a Les Miserables fanfiction. I have just started reading the book, so it is likely to be more musical/movie compliant than within the book canon. I also hope to be able to delve into the more political side that is touched upon in the movie, as that's what I found most interesting. I'd kill for a Les Aimes L'ABC political thriller, to be honest._

_See you next time!_


	2. Blood Never Lies

**A/N**: So this chapter is a bit messy and violent. For warning, I re-re-re time a million watched episode six of Band of Brothers. Not the best idea before writing a chapter on war wounds.

So forewarning, this chapter is heavy.

* * *

Whatever Eponine had been expecting from her new occupation, this was not it.

"More pressure, Eponine!" Joly yelled frantically as he hurried to prepare his instruments. The poor wounded student thrashed wildly around as Eponine attempted to stall the bleeding in his shoulder.

The wound was deep but Joly explained to her that if they worked quickly enough, it would not be fatal. The man (more like boy) was lucky, though Eponine highly doubted he'd see it that way. The bullet had just narrowly missed a major artery in the boy's leg, but it would be at least half a year before he could walk unaided again.

Her endeavours to help the wounded young men of the barricades left her more disgusted with her country. To be passive in their murdering of innocent people was one thing. Eponine tried to pretend that the upper class of France were merely ignorant to the suffering of their fellow citizens. To shoot young men in what seemed to her like nothing more than a desperate attempt to continue their lofty lifestyle was beyond what Eponine could imagine. It was hard to comprehend that level of cruelty, even after everything she had faced in her short life.

The young man who Eponine didn't know continued to thrash about.

"Calm down, monsieur," Eponine said in the voice she reserved for her siblings after a particularly horrific nightmare. "You'll be alright, we'll fix you right up."

"You don't understand," the student said with audible frustration. "I need to get back to the barracks. They need me," he gritted out.

"They need you alive, Lemont," Joly corrected as he knelt down next to Eponine. He turned his attention to his novice nurse. "When I say go, take the rag away. I'll pull out the bullet then you stitch him up. Got it?"

Eponine nodded and took the needle and tread from Joly's outstretched hand. At his command, she pulled the rag away and winced as the poor young man screamed when Joly dug the bullet out.

Joly nudged her and almost mechanically, Eponine went about stitching the man up. With each student that came into that small cafe, the more detached she became. The litres of blood and the number of glazed, lifeless eyes that stared back at her would haunt her nightmares for her remaining days, no matter how numbered they seemed to be.

Eponine had only just sat back on her heels to examine her work when Lemont shot up and vanished from the cafe, eager to get back to the front lines. He limped along, holding the wall for support, moving on shear dedication.

Eponine had a haunting feeling that the next time he passed through the cafe, Lemont wouldn't be as lucky as he was the first time.

"Good work," Joly called to her from the other side of the room where he was pouring liquor on his various tools in a desperate attempt to bring some sanitation to the cafe. "You make a fine nurse."

Eponine felt a flush darken her tan cheeks. It wasn't often that she was complimented. "Thank you, monsieur, but I'm only doing what you tell me to."

"What do you think an education is, Eponine?" Joly asked as he bent down to check on an unconscious patient. "Someone taught me how to treat my patients, too. You seem to have an innate skill in the field, though."

Eponine opened her mouth to respond before the doors opened with a crash. Enjolras rushed in, half-dragging/half-carrying a wounded Feuilly with him.

Joly rushed to help the revolutionary leader move Feuilly down to the ground so that they could examine his wounds. Eponine rushed over and collapsed to her knees next to the body, hardly feeling the sting.

Feuilly's breaths were heaving, coming out in sharp gasps, and his hand was clutched over his bleeding heart. His green eyes were rolling back in his head as he tried desperately to stay awake.

Eponine and Joly worked immediately, ripping the shirt open, sending pearl-coloured buttons scattering. After a moment, Joly collapsed from his knees and looked up at Enjolras, shaking his head firmly.

Eponine felt her heart drop at the sign. Even with her minimal at best medical experience, she could tell that there was no way that Feuilly could survive his wounds. He was shot twice in his chest. One by his lung and one by his heart. Their tools and make-shift bandages would not be enough to piece the fan maker back together.

Enjolras dropped to his knees beside Joly and smoothed his hand over Feuilly's forehead, trying desperately to offer some form of comfort to his friend.

"You're going to be okay," Enjolras lied, not sure what to say to the dying soldier. "They'll get you all fixed up."

Feuilly offered him a weak smile, though Eponine could tell he was trying to ease the loss for Enjolras. Enjolras, for all his many talents, was a horrific liar. Joly and Enjolras each grasped one of Feuilly's hands in a desperate attempt to comfort the dying man.

After a few last gasping breaths, Feuilly's head lulled to the side and his chest ceased movement. Joly checked the pulse on the young man's wrist briefly before carefully laying the fanmaker's arm across his chest. Enjolras copied the movement, blue eyes empty of emotion.

The revolutionary leader sprang to his feet suddenly with a frustrated growl. Enjolras began pacing furiously, his blood soaked hands pulling through his blonde hair, leaving it stained with streaks of red. "Why are they doing this to us?" He asked, looking not at his two medics, but towards the ceiling. "Are their opera tickets and furs really so important?"

"They fear loss like everyone else, Enjolras," Joly said quietly, careful not to rile his leader when he was in his current state of mind. "They'll come around, I have faith."

"Their loss is nothing more than trivialities when compared with the poverty of their fellow citizens," Enjolras bit out harshly. Enjolras levelled a look at Joly and, after a moment, stood up straighter. "They can only stay blind for so long."

Eponine furrowed her brow at their explanation for the lack of participation from their fellow Parisians. To her, they seemed a little off the mark but she kept her mouth shut, busying her hands with cleaning the blood of Feuilly's face.

Enjolras turned his attention to Eponine. "Marius is fine," he informed her harshly. Eponine excused his tone as grief for his fallen friend. "Still prattling on about this girl and their so-called lost love but he's alive."

"Thank you, monsieur," Eponine said gratefully, not even feeling the usual pain of jealousy at the mention of Cosette. She was far too relieved to know that Marius was still standing strong.

Besides, if her Marius was alive, maybe there was still hope for her as well. If Cosette really did leave the country for England then Eponine had a shot at winning Marius's heart from the claws of her former victim.

A part of her brain scolded her quickly for her dark thoughts. Is Marius's misery really worth it for her own happiness? Did she really think that Marius's could save her from the life she was condemned to? It was unlikely. Still, it was that one hope that kept her going throughout the hard years.

"Enjolras," the revolutionary corrected swiftly, the edge of loss still present in his tone. "Please, Mademoiselle, we are equals. Your work here today proves that fact." With that final statement, Enjolras bent down to Fuilley, laying a large hand on the young man's face, closing the blank green eyes for the last time.

Feuilly couldn't have been much older than herself, Eponine decided. His baby fat was still present, masking his sharp cheekbones and softening his prominent nose. It was hard to picture what he would have been like when he was older, when wrinkles would litter his face and his brown hair would be streaked with grey. Eponine supposed they would never have the pleasure of knowing.

Her mind drifted to the rest of the revolutionaries fighting in the streets. None of the students were much older than her. None of the Les Aims de l'ABC had a wife or children. Most didn't even have proper jobs that earned them a solid living. She very much doubted that many had been in love. They had so much to experience and it was likely to be gone in a flash of gun powder or the strike of a sword. That realization sent a chill down her spine and fed her growing anguish towards the state of her country.

Eponine's thoughts were startled as Enjolras quickly exited the cafe without a parting word, slamming the door behind him.

"Eponine," Joly called from the 'bedside' of a patient. "Can you make some compresses for the wounded? I fear that if their wounds don't take them, the fevers will."

Eponine nodded and set about her work as quickly as she could, making cold compresses to place over the brows of the wounded.

It was odd for Eponine to feel so focused on the task at hand. Often, as she robbed the rich and helped her father steal, she would drift to thoughts of Marius to keep her going. As she tended to the soldiers that littered the floor of the rather dingy cafe, Marius barely came to her mind. When he did, it was as she thought about how the battle was unfolding and his personal safety.

Her patients needed her more than Marius did, Eponine decided. There were more important matters at hand.

Eponine shuffled around on her knees between each patient, cooing words of comfort as she inspected their bandages (which were really just torn up flags and clothing left strewn in the mad haste to build the barricade) and felt their foreheads for emerging fevers.

It wasn't long before there was another crash as an unknown soldier burst into the cafe. "Eponine!" He cried, moving to the centre of the room. "Enjolras sent me. It's Marius, he's been shot and-"

Without waiting to hear the remainder of the message, Eponine tore from the cafe, running desperately towards the front lines.

* * *

**A/N: **

Sorry this chapter is a drag. To be honest, most of the story is a drag for at least two or three other chapters. Such is life in the 1830s, though.

I just want to send a huge thank you to everyone who read this story and enjoyed it. I have honestly never received so much feedback, as my fandoms have all either been far too huge to get noticed in or far too small to have over four hundred people read your first chapter in three days! It's absolutely fantastic. Apologies that it took so long to reply to them. When I was originally on , that wasn't a thing. I didn't know you could do it but I do now!


	3. Undertaker

**A/N:** Wow, another hard hitter of a depressing chapter. I'm really stressing the _hurt_ in the hurt/comfort genre!

* * *

Enjolras returned from the cafe, shaking his head slightly as men asked him about the fate of Feuilly. There was no time to mourn their fallen comrade, however, as gunshots continuously blasted the barricade.

Did the armies of France really have so much that they could afford to waste their gun power and ammunition on a pile of furniture? The thought of that waste of the taxpayer's money only served to cement Enjolras's ambitions. After all, a country that could so handily afford to slay its own citizens could certainly afford to ensure their nutrition and shelter.

After issuing some quick commands to his directionless followers, Enjolras made his way back towards a still-dower Marius.

Enjolras felt a distinct twinge of guilt for taking Marius's last contact with his beloved away from him. Enjolras knew that he didn't have a choice in his actions but with each passing hour, Marius's resolve seemed to falter.

"Eponine is doing a fine job as Joly's assistant," Enjolras commented, hoping that Marius would be able to see reason in Eponine's assignment. "We'd be lost without the two of them."

Marius made a slight noise, not taking his eyes off the barricade.

"Have you ever been in love, Enjolras?" Marius asked suddenly, still not sparing a glance at his leader.

"Excuse me?" Enjolras asked, turning his attention more fully towards Marius.

"For someone I consider to be one of my closest friends, I know so little about you. Or Eponine, for that matter, or any of these men," Marius sighed. "I know even less about my dear Cosette but in those brief moments we shared, I felt that we had had a thousand conversations."

Enjolras furrowed his brow. "No," he responded slowly. "I've never felt like that." Enjolras was secretly glad for that. It sounded terribly boring to him. What was the point in love if everything was the same and familiar? Besides, he had bigger issues to worry about. "I've never found the time to fall in love."

Marius barked out a harsh laugh. "I thought not."

Standing in silence, Enjolras pulled his attention away from Marius and observed his surroundings, standing tall. It seemed as if Enjolras had a spine made from steel, unwavering even as bodies dropped on both sides of the barricades.

Inwardly, however, he felt like he was cracking. Enjolras was not afraid, at least not for his own safety, but doubt was beginning to cast a fog over his resilience. The National Guard had been blasting the barricade for at least an hour and still, no citizen militia had come to assist the students in rebellion.

Where were all the people who came to hear him speak only a week ago? The impoverished people that he was trying to free from the tyranny of the king and his loyal entourage who spent the money that should be in the hands of the citizens on fancy cakes and jewelry?

Enjolras shook his head slightly, trying to free himself of these doubtful thoughts. The citizens of Paris would rise when their time came.

Enjolras could only hope that time would be soon.

"Gavroche?" Marius exclaimed suddenly, his depression quickly forgotten as the young boy crawled up the barricade. "Get down from there!"

Enjolras snapped into action hurrying to the barricade with Marius hot on his heels.

"We need more ammunition!" Gavroche called back to them.

"You need to get down!" Enjolras commanded, trying his best to sound commanding despite the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He would never be able to forgive himself if he was responsible for a child's death.

"Just a minute!" Gavroche called back from the top of the barricade, Enjolras and Marius climbing after him.

Without warning, a National Guardsman pointed his gun at the young boy. "Don't move!" He commanded.

Enjolras could hear the strain in the soldier's voice and took it as a sign of weakness. He quickly reached over and dragged Gavroche behind him. "You don't want to kill a child." Enjolras deduced quickly. "He is merely trying to form his own opinions and values. Don't blame him for this."

The soldier's gun shook slightly as he faltered under Enjolras's powerful gaze. "I said don't move."

Enjolras cursed himself for not reloading his gun before crawling after Gavroche.

A second National Guardsman joined his comrade and pointed his gun at Enjolras and Gavroche. Marius was behind them, calculating the situation, all thoughts of his lost love gone from his mind as his two friends stood in the face of death.

"What are you waiting for?" A commander screamed as he pushed his way past the wavering soldiers. "That's their leader!" The commander raised his gun quickly and fired a single shot.

Enjolras braced himself for an impact that never came. Instead, almost as if in slow motion, he saw Marius's crumble in front of him.

The young student had taken the bullet for his leader.

Working quickly through his shock, Enjolras pushed Gavroche back down to their side of the barricade and dragged Marius over. The National Guardsman seemed almost shocked at his actions, lowering his gun almost immediately. Other students scrambled to help their friends.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Gavroche cried before being pulled into the arms of Coufeyrac, who tried to sooth the boy's cries. Tears were streaking down the older male's face as well, though he tried to stay strong for the grieving and guilt-ridden boy.

"Someone get Eponine!" Enjolras barked as he crawled to his friend's side. He ripped the revolutionary flag tied around his hips to apply pressure to the wound. Rain began to pour down on the barricade, making the cobblestone path turn slick.

"It is no use, Enjolras," Marius said weakly, pushing the man's hands away. "Don't ruin your flag. It is not so bad. I barely feel a thing."

The rain caused Enjolras's hair to cling to his face, which he pushed away in frustration. "You're going to be okay, Marius," Enjolras stated firmly

Marius shook his head lightly. "You're not the only one who pours over books in all subjects, my friend." Marius paused and brought a hand up to Enjolras's face. "My leader."

"Some leader," Enjolras contradicted bitterly. "I seem to do nothing but get men killed."

"You brought us hope," Marius said steadfastly, despite his weakened state. "Hope that tomorrow can be better for all citizens of France, not just the chosen few."

Before he could respond, Enjolras was interrupted by Eponine, who collapsed beside Marius.

"No." She muttered as tears streaked down her face. Quickly launching into the basics she knew of nursing, Eponine's hands flew to his chest to open his shirt. Enjolras reached over and grasped Eponine's hand, shaking his head.

"We have to try!" She cried desperately, pulling her hands from Enjolras.

Marius chuckled slightly before succumbing to a set of racking coughs, horrifying his friends around him. They subsided a few moments later and Marius moved to take Eponine's hands himself. "My dear 'Ponine. I don't know what I would have done without you these past few years. I am sorry to leave you so soon."

"You can't! I need you here!" She sobbed, pulling one of her hands free to brush the raindrops from his face. The other hand clutched Marius's so firmly that her knuckles were turning white.

"You're a survivor, Eponine. You'll be fine. What's more is that you are my very best friend. I am better for having known you," Marius smiled up at her, flashing his brilliant white teeth. His sentences were short and choppy as he struggled to breathe.

"I love you," Eponine confessed, her chest heaving as she attempted to keep her sobs in control.

Marius grinned, bringing a hand up to cup the poor girl's cheek. "I love you too, 'Ponine," Marius replied, though all present knew they meant the term in different ways. "Please take my letter to Cosette if you can. Before she leaves. And tell her I'm sorry. I would have spent a million mornings with her if I had the chance."

With those final words, Marius Pontmercy's eyes turned skywards before their final light was stolen.

* * *

**A/N:** RIP Marius, you lady killer. Don't worry, his death has a point!

Don't worry, the next two chapters have a grand total of zero deaths so… that's pretty good, right?

A word about updating. I'm trying to update twice a week, that's my ultimate goal. I have an internship I'm working at as well as school, so I'm attempting to get everything I need to get done completed. This weekend and next weekend I probably won't have a lot of time to write, though, because one of my best friends is moving abroad for a little while and we have to party it up. I do have two chapters in addition to this one already done, though.

So! I'll try to update on Thursday or Friday, so until then… have a great week!


	4. Dose of Thunder

**A/N: I promised Friday, didn't I?**

* * *

Eponine and Enjolras sat in silence for several minutes after Marius's body was taken back to the cafe. The strange duo didn't speak, both unable to convey the rush of emotions that were talking over them.

The shooting ceased. After a few minutes, a revolutionary ran to Enjolras to inform him that he overheard the National Guard leaders commanded their armies to rest and protect their gunpowder for the morning, after the rain had stopped.

"Thank you, citizen," Enjolras said firmly, wiping his red palms against his black trousers.

With a sigh, Enjolras stood up. He glanced down at Eponine, who still stared at her palms that were stained red.

"They're not going to be shooting anymore tonight," Enjolras informed his men, his usually ridged shoulders sagged with grief and exhaustion. "Try to rest, they will attack again at dawn, no doubt."

With that, Enjolras turned back to Eponine, who now had Gavroche clinging to her. She did not hug the boy back, still too deep in her shock to register that the child was there.

Enjolras knelt next to the Eponine and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Enjolras!" Gavroche cried, moving from Eponine to throw his arms around Enjolras. Enjolras hugged the boy back with one arm, keeping a hand on Eponine to prevent her from drawing in on herself too much.

"It was an accident, Gavroche. You thought you were doing the right thing and I understand that. With that in mind, you need to realize that this is the reason armies have leaders. Before you run off and do something, ask me first." Enjolras pushed the boy back slightly. "I'm going to take care of Eponine. Go to the cafe and see if you can help Joly with anything. Tell him Eponine is with me."

Gavroche nodded and spared one last glance at his sister before running towards the cafe.

Enjolras glanced up at Courfeyrac, who was hovering around Enjolras. "Courfeyrac, go help Joly with the wounded," he commanded firmly. Courfeyrac gave his leader a quick nod before following the path Gavroche took.

Manoeuvring himself so that he could kneel in front of Eponine, Enjolras raised her chin to look at him.

"What can I do to help you?" Enjolras asked the broken girl softly. Eponine seemed even smaller and more fragile than usual, which was quite a feat. Despite her malnourished appearance, there was a part of Eponine that always seemed unbreakable, despite her unrequited love for Marius.

Furrowing her brow, Eponine's tears ceased for a moment. She sat in concentration for a few moments before answering. "Let me take Cosette the letter. Let me deliver Marius's message."

"Excuse me?" Enjolras asked, hoping that he misheard her. "I told you that it's not safe."

"I am going to deliver the message to Cosette. I have go right now if they're set on leaving France," Eponine said softly, still enraptured with her stained palms, barely registering that Enjolras was still there.

"You cannot leave the barracks, Eponine. It is far too dangerous!" Enjolras contradicted, crossing his arms over his chest. His musket hung loosely from his right hand, his left still clutching the bloody revolutionary flag.

"You can't stop me," Eponine stated, looking up at Enjolras for the first time since Marius died.

The hollow look in Eponine's usually bright brown eyes only served to add another crack to Enjolras's resolve. The pain that shone in them was unlike any that Enjolras could possibly know and was eager to never feel. The fact that Eponine could even lift her head to look at him only served to solidify the growing respect Enjolras felt for the young woman.

Enjolras spared a glance over his shoulder to his resting men. They were hunched over in exhaustion and grief, though the fire of determination was still present in their eyes and the half-smiles of encouragement they shared with each other.

Enjolras was grateful for their spirit. It kept his faith alive to see his friends and followers so committed to the cause, even if their fellow citizens had abandoned them.

_Not that anyone could blame them_, Enjolras added quickly in his mind before scolding himself for such traitorous thoughts. He was confident that once the citizenry were educated, the class divide that plagued France would be relieved.

Still, examining the young students, Enjolras could tell they were in desperate need of a break. One more night that allowed them to act their age, to revel in alcohol and pointless stories.

"I will escort you there," Enjolras decided suddenly, almost shocking himself with his words.

Enjolras extended a hand and Eponine slowly placed her hand in his outstretched palm. Her movements were slow due to her shock, it was almost as if she was wading through mud.

Hoisting her to her feet, Enjolras extended his other hand, quick to catch her in case she fell. Eponine surprised him by standing on her own, although her shoulders were still hunched in grief.

"If it's what Marius wanted, it's the least I can do," Enjolras said firmly, answering the question she never asked as he dropped Eponine's hand. "But be careful. And we have to be quick."

Eponine swayed slightly when Enjolras let go of her hand but she did not fall. She turned without a word and began walking towards the barricade's exit, carefully sneaking through a small gap between the sets of row houses that surrounded them. Enjolras followed her quickly, nodding to Combeferre, who seemed to understand Enjolras's intention without a word.

Unlike Eponine, Enjolras was well-fed enough that squeezing through the tight space was more of a struggle. When he reached the other side, he noticed that tears began streaking down Eponine's face again. Enjolras shifted awkwardly, not sure how to soothe her. Though he too was feeling the sharp pain of grief for Marius, he was unable to succumb to these emotions, not while their friends were risking their lives for freedom.

Enjolras followed Eponine without a word as she began leading him through twisting lanes and alleys towards Cosette's dwellings. He trusted her to lead them safely but kept vigilant never the less. Gamaines like Epoinine know the streets of Paris in a way that a bourgeois, even a fallen one like Enjolras, would never be able to grasp.

Before long, Enjolras found himself in front a small almost cottage-like house. It was quaint and didn't seem to fit with the rest of Paris, far too provincial for the rapidly decaying city.

"Is this it?" Enjolras asked in a whisper. He watched as Eponine nodded sadly, not looking him in the eye. Her head was bowed as if merely standing was getting to be far too much of an effort for her. Enjolras rested a hand on her shoulder in a vain attempt of comfort as he gazed through the gate, trying to deduct how to get through the barrier.

A flash of blonde from the corner of his eye caught his attention.

"Mademoiselle!" Enjolras whispered loudly to the girl. "Is that her?" He asked Eponine quickly, eyeing the blonde as she approached them.

Eponine glanced up quickly at the other female and nodded sharply.

"Who are you?" Cosette asked cautiously, keeping a safe distance from the duo on the other side of the fence. Her nose wrinkled at their appearance, caked in blood, Enjolras with a gun slung over his shoulder, Eponine even filthier than usual.

"We're from the barricades. I am Enjolras and this is Eponine," Enjolras noticed the blonde's mouth turn down as her eyes settle on Eponine. For her part, Eponine kept her eyes adverted. "We… have some news."

Cosette rushed towards the gate, grasping the bars when she reached it. "Is it of Marius?"

A sob tore through Eponine's throat and Enjolras tightened his grip. He used his free hand to reach into his pocket and extract the letter, now stained with the blood of the fallen soldiers that Enjolras never seemed capable of fully washing off.

"No," Cosette whispered, not taking the letter immediately. "He's not…"

Eponine let out another sob, cementing Cosette's fears.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras muttered as he dragged the grieving brunette into his arms, turning her head into his chest to attempt to smother her sobs. The last thing they needed was to be caught by a stray police officer or a sympathizer of the monarchy. "He died a hero. He died saving a young boy, as well as myself."

Cosette's knees seemed to give away as she sank to the ground, the mud staining her pure white gown. Her body began raking with sobs, echoing in the small street.

"Please, Mademoiselle!" Enjolras whispered frantically. "I don't want to leave you alone but we cannot be caught!"

"Who's there? Cosette?" A voice boomed from the front door of the cottage. A greying man dashed towards them when he saw his crumpled daughter.

"Cosette!" He exclaimed, dropping to the ground with her. He gathered his daughter in his arms and rocked her as she wailed unintelligible words. "What did you do?" He demanded, looking up at Enjolras.

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak but Eponine beat him to the punch.

"It's Marius." She declared finally, pulling herself out of Enjolras's arms. Eponine took the letter from Enjolras's hand and knelt down. "He wanted me to deliver this to you but it wasn't safe. I was needed elsewhere," she explained, glancing up at Enjolras.

"Monsieur Marius told me… he asked me to tell you, before he died, that is," Eponine stumbled, forcing herself to push her own grief aside to complete her beloved's final wish. "He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry he had to leave you like this." Eponine paused as Cosette's large eyes fell on her. Eponine took her cap off and wrung it in her hands.

There was no use pretending to be a stranger now.

"He said he wished he could have spent a million mornings with you," Eponine waited a beat. "Marius really did love you."

Cosette pulled herself from her father's arms and crawled closer to Eponine, taking the letter from her and tucking it into her dress. "Thank you, Eponine," Cosette said with a watery smile, tears still streaking down her face.

Enjolras observed the scene, feeling awkward and guilty. If he had handed the situation with the National Guard better, perhaps Marius would be alive.

_If you handed the revolt with less arrogance and nativity, perhaps they would all live,_ Enjolras's mind taunted him before he shook the thought from his head.

"I must get back to the barricade," Enjolras said finally. "Sir, may I trust you to offer Eponine shelter until this is over?"

Eponine shot up suddenly. "What?" She exclaimed, standing tall in front of Enjolras for the first time since Marius fell. "I'm coming with you! Joly needs my help!"

"He'll manage," Enjolras replied, shaking his head. "You are in no state to be back there."

"But Enjolras-!"

Enjolras put a hand up to stop her protests. "I know how capable you are, Eponine. I also know how grieved you are. I cannot allow you to go back with me."

"But my brother, Gavroche, he's all I have! I need him to stay safe!" Eponine pleaded, grasping the lapels of Enjolras's jacket.

If he was shocked by the news that Gavroche was Eponine's brother, Enjolras didn't show it. He pried her hands from his jacket and stepped back. "I will keep him safe, I promise."

"And if you fall?" Eponine questioned harshly.

"Another will rise to complete my duty. You are not coming with me."

"But I am."

* * *

**A/N: So, I know what you're thinking...**

**"Man, theartistprince, it's taking an awfully long time to get to the romance part of this story!"**

**To which I would reply:**

**"Yes, kind reader, it is taking an awfully long time to get to the romance part."**

**Sorry for that. It will come, don't you worry. I just have to get some WAR/WAR BONDING/FRIENDSHIP SHIT out of the way first.**

**Also, are you beginning to see why Marius dying had a point? More on that next chapter.**

**Speaking of which, shall we say update on Tuesday? I don't have any chapters other than the next one written right now but I hope to do some on the weekend. I might be too drunk, though, I haven't decided yet.**

**But hey! The more you do your thing, the more I do mine.**

**(PS: your thing is reviewing and reading and clicking and whatnot.)**

**(My thing is the writing.)**


	5. One Way or Another

The three young people turned shocked eyes towards Cosette's father.

"I volunteer to help you in any way I can. I am a fair shot, I did some poaching in my younger years. It would be an honour to join you," Cosette's father said solemnly.

Cosette launched herself to her feet and grabbed her father's arm desperately. "Papa, no! You can't! You can't leave me too!" Cosette's large blue eyes begged her father silently, imploring him not to leave.

Valjean calmly unwrapped Cosette's hands from his arm and cupped her face. "You've been the centre of my world and my only joy this past decade, my dear Cosette. These boys, the friends of your beloved, they need as much help as they can get. All they want is a brighter future for people like young Eponine over here," Valjean explained, motioning to Eponine.

Eponine's cheeks brightened as Cosette's large blue eyes settled on her. Eponine was often ashamed of her shabby appearance after a childhood of relative wealth and privilege, even if it was stolen. Now she was merely a shadow of that girl, hardened by the harsh sting of poverty and the burdened by her sins. She could almost feel Cosette pitying her, the same look settling in her bright blue eyes that Eponine often saw in Marius or Les Aims de l'ABC.

Somehow the pity was infinitely worse coming from Cosette.

"We would gladly accept your help, Mousier," Enjolras said, inclining his head in gratitude.

Valjean nodded and hurried into his house to gather any supplies that would help in the cause. Cosette turned shocked eyes to Enjolras and Eponine, as if she couldn't believe her misfortune, before rushing after him.

Enjolras turned his attention to Eponine. "I want you to stay at this cottage with Cosette," he commanded firmly, reminding Eponine of the leader she observed from afar.

"And if I refuse?" Eponine retorted, raising her chin stubbornly. Enjolras would have found her question admirable if it didn't annoy him so much.

"Then I shall tie you to a chair and force you to stay," Enjolras explained with little emotion in his voice.

Eponine crossed her arms and glared up at him. "I'd like to see you try, **Monsieur."**

Enjolras responded with his own glare at Eponine, his sharp blue eyes becoming more dangerously dark. Eponine refrained from flinching, which only served to ignite Enjolras's annoyance even more.

He really didn't have time for this argument.

"I have a barricade I must return to, Mademoiselle, and I have men to serve," Enjolras said firmly, though his response only made Eponine's eyes narrow.

Enjolras sighed finally and grasped Eponine's shoulders. He leaned down to look at her more closely in the dark, his sudden contact making Eponine's glare wane a fraction in shock.

Enjolras would take what he could get at this point.

"Look, Eponine," he started solemnly. "It isn't that I don't think you would be an asset. I know your abilities, from what I saw in Musain and what Joly has mentioned. I merely believe that you are not in any state to fight along side us."

Eponine faltered slightly. "I want to fight for what Marius believed in," she stated as calmly as she could, though her voice hitched slightly and she stumbled over the name of her beloved.

Shaking his head, Enjolras's features softened out of pity for the young woman. "Your grief will make you falter and you will merely die for him. He will not even be around to see your sacrifice," Enjolras added. Eponine finally flinched at his sentiment and Enjolras felt a small wave of guilt for his words.

"I do not pretend to know what you're feeling, Eponine, but the decision does ultimately fall to me whether you stay here or come back with me and I must insist that you stay," Enjolras commanded. "I will not lead you to your death."

Eponine felt a stab of pity through her own overwhelming grief for the idealistic leader. Enjolras may be strong but Eponine knew from eavesdropping on his rousing speeches he had no idea that they would be suffering as she knew they were. None of them did, not even Eponine herself.

As much as the students steeled themselves for war, they were too untrained and too naive to predict what was happening at the present.

An idea struck Eponine sharply and she found herself nodding. "I'll stay with Cosette if you keep Gavroche safe," she said softly, looking up at him. She squared her shoulders bravely, pulling herself up to her full height for the first time since she saw Marius's crumpled body laying next to the barricade. "That is, I'll stay until noon. If the battle carries on by that time, I will come and fight with you."

Enjolras nodded quickly, agreeing to those terms. His mind was torn, half believing the battle would be won by then and half believing that he wouldn't be alive to see her run to fight anyway.

Valjean burst from the house, arms full of guns and a sack hanging from his shoulder. Cosette was still following him, desperately trying to change his mind.

Enjolras tore his attention away from the father and daughter and focused on Eponine again. The two stood in silence before Enjolras stuck out his hand formally. "So noon, then?"

Eponine gave him a nod and placed her small hand in his, slightly embarrassed that his hands were much softer than her work-worn palms. Eponine revelled in the feeling of his hand gripping hers. It had been years since she had been treated as an equal, and certainly never by a man of Enjolras's stature, as she had at this moment.

The feeling was addictive and Eponine could finally see the future that Enjolras dreamed of.

"I'll protect Gavroche," he promised firmly, shaking her hand firmly. "You have my word."

"And I will see you again, be it at noon or as we celebrate the Second Republic," Eponine swore back, offering him a large but insincere smile.

Enjolras smiled back at her, dropped his hand and took a step back as Valjean approached him. Valjean held the gate open for Eponine to slide past him to stand next to Cosette and without a parting word, the two men marched off to battle.

Eponine stood tall, steeling her spine despite the crushing feeling of her grief. She would have the rest of her days to mourn Marius (and she was sure that she was up to that particular task). Right now, she had other issues to worry about.

Cosette made soft sobbing sounds next to Eponine, causing Eponine to shift awkwardly. She waited a few moments until she was sure that Enjolras and Valjean were a safe distance away.

"Get your shoes," Eponine commanded, speaking to Cosette in the same manner she did a decade ago. "And a cloak."

"Excuse me?" Cosette asked, wiping her tears with the back of her palm.

Eponine rolled her eyes and turned to Cosette. "You didn't really think that we'd stand here waiting for them to get back, did you? They need help and lots of it. We're going to wander around Paris, however far we can walk, and get help."

Tilting her head, Cosette's tears stopped as if a renewed energy came to her. "Who's going to help them? It's suicide!"

"My people could," Eponine responded, incredibly doubtful of the likelihood. "We have to try, Cosette. It's what Marius died for. It's what they're all willing to die for. We have to try something!"

Cosette stood silently for a moment, contemplating her options. Eponine tapped her foot impatiently before rolling her eyes.

"Fine," Eponine said shortly, throwing her arms in the air. "I'll do it myself." Eponine moved to leave before Cosette's hand shot out and clutched Eponine's bony arm.

"Wait!" Cosette objected. "I want to help you, just wait a moment," Cosette said before dashing back into the house. After a few minutes, she dashed back out, clad in a black cloak and a pair of shoes. She carried a bag with her, which dangled by her side and some bread in her hand.

"I'll help you, but I'm sure you must be starving," Cosette explained, pushing the fresh loaf of bread into Eponine's hands.

Eponine stared down at the bread and had contemplated dropping it to the ground, which was slick with mud from the rain. Her pride prohibited her from taking charity from the girl she spent years torturing. Eponine was sure it must be nothing more than a trick. There was no way that Cosette would be offering her any shred of kindness.

Still, as she looked at Cosette, Eponine felt the need to comply. The blonde had just lost her love and was likely to lose her father as well. Besides, Eponine was starving after almost three days without so much as a scrap to eat and the next few hours were bound to be exhausting.

Eponine sank her teeth into the doughy bread and almost moaned as the fresh taste hit her tongue. It has been a long time since she had ever tasted bread that wasn't at least four days old. It was heavenly.

Eponine shifted her attention back to Cosette as the blonde fastened her black cloak and covered her bright hair with the hood.

"To Saint-Michel, then?" Cosette asked briskly as she scrubbed the remaining streaks of tears off her face.

Eponine regarded Cosette as she tucked the remaining bread in the pocket of her borrowed jacket.

Perhaps her rival was good for more than sweeping dust off the floors and boys off their feet.

* * *

**A/N: So is Marius's death starting to make a bit more sense? At least Cosette gets a little more to do.**

**So I probably won't be able to update until Saturday or Sunday, unfortunately. My friend is moving and I have an engagement party. Growing up sucks, just so you're aware. I'm also getting sick which is the worst. However, if I don't have much to do at my internship, I can just do this. My supervisor has a hard time thinking up tasks because I'm too fast.**

******Just like to take the time to thank everyone for saying they were cool with the pacing of the romance aspect. It was a part that I was unsure of because it is going to be a ways away.**

**I hope this is good, I'm super sick during this editing process but I have a thing about being late so I'M SORRY!**

**So next chapter is back to the boys but the chapter after that is some motherfucking GIRL POWER AWW YEAHHHH.**

**… I'm on a lot of medication right now.**


	6. Forever Young

**A/N: So I know I said this wouldn't be up until the weekend but I guess I lied? I got so many nice reviews and that motivates me, I guess. Positive feedback and the like. **

* * *

Enjolras led Cosette's father, who the reader surely knows by the name of Jean Valjean, silently through the streets. He focused on copying the same steps Eponine took to get them to the cottage. Enjolras spent far too much time locked away in libraries and lecture halls to know Paris as intimately as Eponine did.

Valjean kept the hood of his cloak hood wrapped tightly around his head, careful to shield his face from the non-existent passers-by. Anyone with half a brain was already locked deep within their homes, cowering to protect themselves from potential revolution. The National Guard was situated at the head of every barricade in the city, leaving the rest of the city completely lawless. As such, the few brave souls that ventured out that night finally had a taste of pure freedom.

Enjolras led the older man to the collection of students keeping guard over the barricade, after squeezing through the small gap between the houses, a feat even harder for Valjean than it was for Enjolras.

Enjolras's fellow revolutionaries were still talking quietly among each other, sharing bottles of wine and their favourite memories as they desperately tried to push their impending doom from their mind.

Squaring his shoulders, Enjolras walked confidently towards Combeferre, who was keeping one eye on the barricade and one on the bottle clutched in his hand.

"Any news of the National Guard?" Enjolras asked, not bothering to start the conversation with pleasantries.

Combeferre looked up at Enjolras from his place on the ground, his eyes slightly glassy. "Nothing yet, mon capitan," he joked. "Who's your friend?" Combeferre asked, pointing to Valjean.

"Oh, pardon," Enjolras amended quickly, moving to stand by Valjean. "This is- I don't believe I caught your name?"

Valjean hesitated for a moment. "Leblanc." He stated finally. "You may call me Leblanc."

Enjolras nodded sharply. "This is Monsieur Leblanc and he has volunteered to help us," Enjolras stated. He hesitated a moment before adding: "He is the father of Marius's Cosette."

A hush fell over Les Amis as they thought briefly of their fallen brother. Jehan broke the silence as he moved to Valjean's side and clapped the older man on the shoulder. "Marius would have made you a fine son-in-law, sir."

"I have no doubt," Valjean said softly, attempting to offer some comfort to the boys, and they were truly just boys to him, who had lost their friend. "Just as I have no doubt that the citizenry of France will rejoice in this rebellion once they see the light."

Enjolras nodded firmly. "And they will see the light," Enjolras agreed. "I would not be surprised if the calvary join us once dawn strikes. Furthermore-"

Enjolras was cut off abruptly as a single shot was fired into the barricade. The students scrambled for their guns as Valjean brought his own up to his eye.

"Sniper on the roof!" He called out before retaliating with a single shot of his own. The deathly blow proved to be successful as the National Guardsman fell with a resounding thump, signalling his death.

The students turned to Valjean in awe.

"Welcome aboard, then!" Combeferre said after a few moments. "You've got to teach me how to do that!"

"I'm fairly sure you can fire a gun, Combeferre," Grantaire interjected dryly. "Although, I must admit, it was fairly impressive."

"Grantaire admitting he's impressed by something other than the quality of his wine? Absolutely shocking!" Jehan joked, causing a small ripple of laughter to burst from the students.

"Enough!" Enjolras commanded, halting the laughter. "We must be on guard if they are resorting to snipers." Enjolras paced slightly and pointed to three boys. "You three, help Combeferre with the watch. You," he said, pointing to another. "Find some high ground and keep watch. If you see anything, shout down for us."

The four soldiers accepted their commands and nodded sharply before dispersing to their various posts.

"The rest of you may continue to relax until dawn. I am going to check on the wounded. I will be back soon," Enjolras promised, waving his hand to signify that his order was final.

Enjolras furrowed his brows as Les Amis went back to resting, drinking and laughing. His time away from the barricade with Eponine had prevented him from checking on the wounded, so with a quick word to Combeferre, Enjolras slowly made his way towards the Cafe Musain.

With each step, his feet seemed to become increasingly heavy as the reality of the situation weighed down on him. Just beyond the door to the cafe laid the bodies of men who had followed Enjolras into battle, only to find themselves maimed or worse.

Enjolras straightened his shoulders and steeled his nerve. If these men were willing to fight for a better future, then the least that Enjolras could do is pay tribute to them in this small manner. Shoving the door open, Enjolras walked into the room.

Gavroche ran up to his leader almost instantly. "Monsieur Enjolras, you're back!" The gamin exclaimed happily. "Where is my sister?" He asked, glancing around the man to see if Eponine was lurking in the shadows.

Enjolras reached down and rested a hand on Gavroche's shoulder. "I implored her to stay with Marius's Cosette until the fighting stops. She is safe," Enjolras informed the boy before bending down slightly. Enjolras always made a point to look into the eyes of those he talked to, to show them that they were equals. "And I have given her my word that you will be safe."

Gavroche nodded gravely. "I won't hurt Eponine again," Gavroche swore before dashing out from under Enjolras's grasp and hurrying back to helping Joly set up medical supplies.

Pity stung Enjolras at Gavroche's words. Though the young boy had seen far more than any child should, the broken look that haunted his eyes pierced Enjolras. Gavroche could only understand that Marius died to save Enjolras and himself. He could only feel the guilt at being a catalyst in the murder of his sister's beloved.

Enjolras knew better.

Of course, Enjolras knew of Marius's revolutionary tendencies far more than Eponine or Gavroche. Though the deceased young man had been distracted after laying eyes on Cosette, Enjolras knew that the revolutionary spark that he had first seen in Marius had not died when he fell in love. If anything, it only ignited it. Now Marius had a reason to ensure that France free of tyranny and inequality.

Marius did not die so that Gavroche or Enjolras could live. Enjolras knew that much. Marius died for the revolution, so that Enjolras could live long enough to command his troops in the desperate hope that the future could be brighter.

Making his way towards the row of dead bodies, Enjolras paid silent respects to each one. Marius, as the last to die, was placed at the end of the row of eight. Enjolras knelt down beside his old friend, just has he had as the freckle-faced man was dying only an hour earlier.

In that hour, all remaining colour had drained from Marius's face, leaving him starkly pale. His freckles were more apparent than every, flecked across his skin in the same light brown, though the contrast was striking. His green eyes were closed tightly, never to open again.

Enjolras leaned over Marius's body. Someone had taken the care to clean his face of the blood and dirt that had stained his usually pristine skin.

"I finally met your dear Cosette," Enjolras muttered, almost feeling stupid for talking to a man that could never answer. Still, if Enjolras was to believe his what his mother had taught him anything, it was that the dead were always eager listeners.

"She seems perfectly lovely. Exactly the type of person I would have seen you falling for, although Les Amis did always assume you would be courting Eponine by the year's end," Enjolras confided, pausing as if Marius would react with shock. "They never think I can hear their petty gossip."

Peering down at Marius, Enjolras moved to wipe some dirt off the young man's lapel, ignoring the vast blood stain that marred his jacket. "Eponine has proven to be a great help and an ardent revolutionary. I have no doubt that she began this because of you but her help has been greatly appreciated.

"That said, I cannot allow her to die like I allowed you." Enjolras sighed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that none of his comrades were listening. "Trying to fight as you grieve your first love. I could only imagine that would be akin to suicide."

Footsteps approached Enjolras and he turned as Valjean approached him from behind. "Bonjour, M. Leblanc. I hope that the others are treating you hospitably," Enjolras commented politely.

Valjean's eyes were not fixed on Enjolras, but on the gagged Javert who was still captured with a noose around his neck in the corner of the cafe. Enjolras's eyes drifted between the two men and he frowned.

_What on earth is Leblanc's fascination with the traitor?_ Enjolras thought to himself.

"Is this boy Marius?" Valjean asked suddenly, drawing Enjolras's attention from the clear tension between the two older men.

"Yes," Enjolras confirmed as he rose to his feet. "This is Marius Pontmercy."

Valjean bent down beside Marius's body and bowed his head solemnly. Enjolras turned away from the scene and made his way to Courfeyrac, not allowing himself to eavesdrop on the private conversation between the older gentleman and the man who could have been his son-in-law.

"How was the trip with Eponine?" Courfeyrac asked softly as he dabbed the forehead of a wounded soldier. "How did Marius's girl take the news?"

"About as well as can be expected," Enjolras shrugged. "She's devastated, obviously. The situation wasn't helped when her father decided to join us.

"And what of Eponine? I notice that she did not come back with you," Courfeyrac remarked. "Unless she is on the front lines, that is."

"I left her at Leblanc's cottage," Enjolras explained, nodding over to Valjean, who was still bent over Marius's body in prayer. "Eponine is upset that I wouldn't allow her to come back. That said, she suffered such a tremendous loss that I don't think she should be here at the present time."

Courfeyrac shook his head. "You underestimate that girl, Enjolras. She is not some wilting flower. Yes, it was obvious that she had intense feelings for Marius, maybe even love or perhaps something just shy of that, but she can hold her own."

Enjolras hesitated before motioning Courfeyrac to continue his lamentations.

"From what Joly has told me, Eponine was a fine worker. She was driven to aide the cause in anyway she could, even if it was just for Marius," Courfeyrac continued, placing the sweat-drenched rag to the side. Joly walked over to the duo, listening to their conversation silently as he checked on his patient.

Enjolras shook his head. "I am aware of her abilities, Courfeyrac, but the girl is grieving. She was in no state to be here."

"Perhaps her grief would have driven her to work even harder," Joly added. "Though I suppose we'll never know now."

"That's not exactly so. She would only stay if I agreed that she could come back to the barricades by noon if we still needed help," Enjolras informed his deputies. "I expect to see her no later than nine."

A smile cracked Joly's face as he looked up from over wounded soldier. "I'd say eight at the latest."

Valjean joined the two men, arms crossed behind his back. "What do you intend to do with that man over there?" He asked Enjolras, his eyes on Javert.

Enjolras turned so he could see Javert as well. "We will let the people of Paris decide what to do with a traitor like him," Enjolras sneered, earning a sharp nod of agreement from Courfeyrac and Joly. "Men like him aren't fit for the Republic."

Valjean hesitated. "I know we have only just met, but I implore you: hand the traitor over to me. That man has made my life a living hell for decades, like he has the citizens of every city that has been unfortunate enough to give him residence. I will take care of him, in hopes that my darling Cosette and I can live without his tyranny."

Courfeyrac and Joly glanced at each other before settling their eyes on their leader, who was nodding. Enjolras reached down and pulled his knife off of his belt.

"Consider the man yours, Monsieur Leblanc. For everything you're doing for the revolution and for the welfare of your daughter," Enjolras informed the older man as he handed over his knife.

Javert gave a small smile in acknowledgement before moving to Javert, cutting him free and leading him out of the cafe.

Enjolras turned to his men and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Courfeyrac, how much gunpowder do we have saved?" Enjolras asked the slightly younger man.

Courfeyrac grimaced. "Not much, I'm afraid. The rain damaged a fair amount."

Enjolras's eyes hardened at the bad news. "I suppose we can only hope that the National Guard has suffered the same fate," Enjolras said, not mentioning the hefty resources of the army overshadowed any rationing the students could manage. "Any news from the other barricades?"

Coureyrac shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. Combeferre might know. Last I heard, boys from Gavroche's gang were acting as messengers between the various barricades in the city." Courfeyrac hesitated. "I did hear that one near Les Invalides has succumbed to the National Guard."

Enjolras refrained from swearing in frustration, though his tightening jaw did show signs of disappointment.

A shot rang out from a nearby alley way and a moment later, Valjean entered the cafe. He nodded to the three boys before moving back towards the front lines.

"I must get back to the men," Enjolras informed the other two. "I expect they'll attack at dawn. Be ready."

With those final words, Enjolras turned and followed Valjean to the front lines.

* * *

**A/N: So, I'm not overly happy with this chapter. It isn't that I think it's bad per say but it's mainly because I'm almost done chapter seven and it is SO FUCKING AWESOME AND I CANNOT.**

**Is that cocky?**

**I don't care, to be honest. It's full of girl power and feminist action. And Montparanasse.**

**Plus some people I made up, holla!**

**This chapter is way longer than I thought it would be. I thought I was done when it was 1000 words and now it's over 2500.**

**I hope I got Enjolras's mixed emotions down. It's like, 90% patriotism, 10% guilt. Though this chapter is mainly just depressing because MAN, THINGS ARE DOOMED.**

**Or are they?**

**I want to get chapter seven out to you as soon as I can because I need to share it but I don't even have chapter nine started.**

**But I do have chapter eleven started? Why can't I do things linearly?**

**Let's go with Monday or Tuesday for chapter seven. Maybe Sunday if the hangovers aren't bad this weekend.**

**Hardest part about writing Les Mis fanfiction? Every name is considered to be "incorrect". So many red squiggles.**

**So let me know how you think things are going so far. If there's anything you want to see more of (Cosette? Les Amis? Gavroche?), let me know.**


	7. Desolation Row

Eponine led Cosette through the winding alleyways of Paris, sticking close to the shadows and encouraging the blonde to do the same. Due to Cosette's childhood in the inn owned by the Thenardiers and her adventures with Valjean, she was able to maintain a certain ability to blend in with her surroundings.

The duo slunk along brick walls as they ventured deeper into the heart of Saint-Michel. The city was almost deathly silent as residents lucky enough to have homes remained behind their boarded windows in preparation of the impending revolution.

Cosette had not made a sound since Eponine led her away from the cottage. In truth, Eponine was glad for it.

As far as Eponine was concerned, after Marius's dying wish was complete, she had nothing further to say to Cosette.

Despite the pang of sympathy she felt for the other girl and the guilt that plagued her for her actions as a child, Eponine still couldn't suppress the bitterness she had towards Cosette. After all, as a child Cosette may have faced hardship and pain but since the day Valjean rescued her from the Thenardiers, Cosette had been blessed with a glorious life while karma and poor luck beat Eponine down with every passing day.

Cosette wasn't forced to steal to keep herself alive. Her skin didn't itch from clothing that hadn't been washed in weeks or the cracked mud and dirt that seemed to always stick. Cosette didn't watch as her brothers were whisked away for a minimum payment, never to be seen again. She didn't know what it was like to be spurred for love at first sight.

Eponine couldn't help the snort as she thought back to that day Marius first laid eyes on the Lark. No doubt Cosette believed her laying a few sous in the hands of the sick and needy bought her straight entry to heaven but it did little to improve Eponine's opinion of her.

If she really wanted to help the poor of France, she would fight like Les Amis de l'ABC.

_She is_, Eponine's mind taunted her. _She's doing as much as you are, anyway._

Eponine pushed her thoughts aside and sharply turned to look at Cosette. Eponine tried to repress her own feelings of grief and sadness as she gazed upon Cosette's tear streaked face. Tears were still leaking from the overly-large blue eyes, but the blonde did not make a sound.

"Just let me do all the talking when we find him," Eponine muttered before turning back around, not waiting for Cosette's response. Eponine heard Cosette let out a soft sigh behind her but did not heed it any mind.

"Who are we looking for, Eponine?" Cosette asked quietly. Her voice was still shot and weak from her sobbing over Marius and her father.

"A man I know," Eponine answered shortly. "Don't worry about it."

A part of Eponine couldn't believe that she was keeping her eyes peeled for one of the people whose company she tried to avoid as often as she could.

It didn't take long before she found the young man she was looking for, lurking in the shadows as he usually did. He was polishing a button on his ornate jacket, his eyes peering into the streets from under the brim of his top hat.

Wrinkling her nose, Eponine hesitated a moment before walking over to him. There was a point in her life where she would have felt more than comfortable asking a favour of Montparnasse, when he would have gone out of his way to help her without asking a single question.

Those days were long over.

Over the last few years, Montparnasse took a downward spiral in his desperate attempt to gain wealth. There wasn't a person or a thing that was more important to Montparnasse than his money.

Still, he had his weak spots. Areas even a murder like him would dare to venture into. Eponine had heard the Patron-Minette mock his inability to hit a woman. Eponine knew that there was a spot deep inside the assassin that was still loyal to the friendship he shared with her, no matter how broken it was.

Eponine took a deep breath in, steeling herself, and looked back at Cosette. She locked eyes with the blonde and shrugged, gesturing over to Montparnasse. Cosette's eyes widened considerably as she took in the attractive young man, clearly clueless as to what a dandy like Montparnasse could offer their cause. Eponine smirked and lead her across the dark alley.

Montparnasse whirled around to face the two as they got closer, on his guard. It took him a moment to regain his composure.

"My, my Eponine. You're even somewhat appealing as a man," Montparnasse commented as he walked closer to the brunette. He removed her wool cap from her head, allowing her brown tresses to cascade out. They were tangled and still partially wet from the rain. He wrinkled his nose as he took in the gamine's bloodied and filthy appearance. "Well, perhaps after a bath." Montparnasse commented as he plucked at Eponine's sleeve, which was stained with mud and the blood of Les Amis and Marius.

Eponine snatched her arm away, causing Montparnasse to raise his eyebrow. He focused his attention on Cosette, who was still lingering behind Eponine. Montparnasse pushed Eponine to the side and walked closer to Cosette. He was predator-like in his movements, slinking towards the shocked blonde.

"Who's your friend, Eponine?" Montparnasse asked, not sparing Eponine a second glance. Montparnasse bent down and placed a soft kiss on Cosette's hand.

"Is this the man we were looking for, Eponine?" Cosette asked nervously. Despite the threatening nature of Montparnasse, he was still charming, enrapturing all who meet him. Eponine had, thankfully, know Montparnasse before he discovered how attractive he was.

Cosette was not so lucky.

"Oh, you've been looking for me?" Montparnasse leered, leaning in closer to Cosette, causing a blush to spread across her fair cheeks. Cosette's sheltered adolescence did not teach her how to react to the forward advances of a man.

Eponine moved around and shoved Cosette behind her, out of the hands of Montparnasse. Eponine would be damned if Montparnasse would lay his filthy hands on something Marius revered as much as he did Cosette.

"I need a favour," Eponine said sharply, snatching her hat back from Montparnasse's claws. "Take your little gang and get down to the barricade in Saint-Michel. The revolutionaries need help and killing the Guard seems right up your alley."

"And get myself killed in the process? No thank you. Not even for you, 'Ponine."

"I thought you were meant to be some great assassin? I have no doubt you'll avoid the barrel of some untrained junior guard." Eponine watched as Montparnasse crumbled under the weight of his own pride and pressed a little harder.

"Come on, Montparnasse, I know that you revel in the act of murder," Eponine stated, mirroring Montparnasse's sadistic smile with one of her own. "Consider this as me accepting your hobby. I don't know anyone better for the job."

"Revel is a strong word, 'Ponine," Montparnasse purred as he ran one finger down Eponine's cheek, causing the brunette to jerk back. "And you should know by now that I'm not one for favours, even if they're being asked by pretty young things like you."

Cosette shifted uncomfortably behind Eponine, drawing Montparnasse's eyes to her.

"Perhaps we could conduct an exchange," Montparnsse stated, settling his luring stare on Cosette.

Eponine furrowed her eyebrows and glanced over her shoulder at Cosette. Her former rival was clearly shaken by Montparnasse's forward nature. It stood in sharp contrast to the far more innocent courting of Marius.

"Leave her out of this, Montparnasse," Eponine said sharply under her breath. Eponine was slightly shocked that she was standing up for Cosette's innocence in this way. After all, Cosette was the blessed girl who had a home and a loving father and had won the love of Marius. Eponine should really let Montparnasse at her.

Still, there was a shred of Eponine that felt protective of the girl. That, if nothing else, Eponine was Marius's best friend and was duty-bound to Cosette in his absence.

"Well, you get nothing when you give nothing, Eponine," Montparnasse shrugged and brushed some dirt off his jacket. "Now if you excuse me, those students of yours are likely to leave some very rich corpses littered around this city and I'll be damned if I let someone else cash out."

"You're damned either way," Eponine bit back.

Montparnasse let out a sharp laugh and forced a kiss on Eponine's cheek. "And I shall see you and your students in the depths of hell, my dear," he retorted as he dodged Eponine's flailing hands as she shoved him away.

"Wait!" Cosette cried as Montparnasse moved to leave. Eponine whirled around to look at Cosette, her brown eyes wide and silently begging Cosette not to speak another word.

Cosette ignored the stare and took a few steps closer to Montparnasse, until she stood shoulder to shoulder with Eponine. "What if we pay you?"

Montparnasse laughed suddenly. "Pay me? I know for a fact that girl," Montparnasse pointed to Eponine. "And hers barely have two sous to scrape together. What is she going to pay me with? Rags? _Love?_"

Eponine glowered darkly at Montparnasse.

"I have money," Cosette replied. "My father is quite wealthy and I-"

Eponine tugged on Cosette's arm, startled that the girl was so naive as to trust a stranger with the facts of her wealth.

Cosette remained undeterred. "Besides, aren't the… corpses of the National Guard likely to be filled with more wares you can sell than disowned students and those stung the worst by poverty?" She stumbled, spitting out every word like she was disgusted by the concept.

Montparnasse paused.

"And the revolt!" Cosette exclaimed before being hushed by both Montparnasse and Eponine. "From what my Papa has taught me of the first Revolution, the wealthy were so abhorred that they were easily robbed and everyone turned a blind eye to it."

Considering this idea, Montparnasse moved slightly closer to Cosette. Eponine felt the tremble that went down the blonde's arm as Montparnasse stood close enough to let his breath blow her hair.

"How much will you give me for my services and when can I expect it?" Montparnasse asked lowly.

"Fifteen hundred," Cosette said firmly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "And I will give it to you at the de Medici fountain in the Jardin du Luxembourg in twenty-four hours."

Montparnasse pondered this idea briefly before nodding. "Well, there are certainly harder ways to make money," Montparnasse shrugged before backing up slightly. The could-be gentleman took Cosette's hand in his and laid a firm kiss to the top. "I shall see you in twenty-four hours, my sweet," he informed Cosette, laying his considerable charm on the young woman. "And as for you, my Eponine, our paths will no doubt cross again. It's whether you'll still be alive or not that's the question."

Eponine narrowed her eyes at Montparnasse. The criminal turned to leave and Eponine's hand shot out and gripped his elbow. "Please don't tell my father about this, 'Paranasse," Eponine requested. "Please."

Montparnasse wrinkled his nose and pried Eponine's hand from his elbow. He wiped the invisible traces of dirt Eponine's dirty hands left behind.

"Your father is already in the sewers, 'Ponine," Montparnasse told her with an awkward shrug. The small, almost non-existent part of Montparnasse that would always be Eponine's pushed to the surface and his green eyes locked on to her brown ones for a lingering second before he pulled away and left without a departing word.

"Where on earth did you meet such a man?" Cosette asked, a hand clutched to her chest.

Eponine's eyes snapped from watching Montparnasse walk away and she sneered at the blonde. "We can't all be blessed to share in the company of bourgeois society like you are, Mademoiselle."

Eponine fell back into the shadows, trusting Cosette to follow her. As useful as Montparnasse and the Patron-Minette might be, the revolutionaries still needed more help. They needed those they were fighting for on their side.

Enjolras was a fantastic speaker and motivator. Eponine doubted that she would ever hear someone speak about anything with as much passion and such firm grasp of the art of rhetoric as Enjolras. Still, he had a hard time grasping the idea that not everyone had the luxury of giving their lives for the cause. Certainly not when that cause involved a large chance of death.

Pondering, Eponine avoided the puddles that had formed in the cobblestone with practiced ease.

Perhaps if they were reasoned with individually, Eponine could convince the impoverished people of France to aide Les Amis. Rousing speeches worked for soldiers and believers but sceptics need one-on-one attention.

Cosette pulled on the sleeve of Eponine's large coat and gestured to a young couple who clung to the shadows like Cosette and Eponine. They were older than either girl and clearly in love. Much like Eponine, they knew how to hide in plain sight.

Eponine approached them cautiously. Even if the couple did look harmless, Eponine knew far better at this point in her life than to trust outward appearances.

"Pardon, Monsieur," Eponine began carefully, keeping her guard up. "Do you know of the barricade in Saint-Michel?" She asked.

The dark haired gamin narrowed his eyes in suspicion and shoved his free hand, the one that wasn't clinging to his lover's hand, obviously protecting the few possessions he owned.

"There isn't a person in Saint-Michel who is unaware of that particularly futile gesture," the man replied.

Eponine furrowed her brows. "I don't believe that it's futile, Monsieur. There is a lot of good that can come of this rebellion."

"It is merely rich college boys who are too bored with their operas and cocktail parties," the girl sneered. "They do not truly care how we are treated. They just want to get their careers in politics and law started."

"That is not true!" Eponine exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "I know that they care desperately for our hardships."

"And how can you assume this?" The man asked, wrapping his arm protectively around. "What do you know that we don't?"

Eponine hesitated, looking back at Cosette. Cosette met her eyes and offered a supportive smile. A slight shock ran through Eponine's blood at the realization that she was coming to rely on her rival for support.

It was an unexpected turn of events to say the least.

"I know them." Eponine stated faithfully as she turned back to the couple. "I have watched them, I have heard them and I know them. They believe what they preach. Monsieur Enjolras and Les Amies aren't interested in their own future, they're interested in ours."

"Please, Monsieur," Cosette cut in, moving up to stand beside Eponine. "They want freedom for every French citizen, regardless of class or creed." Cosette paused and glanced at Eponine. "I was like you once, caught in a horrific situation and I was saved by one man. Who's to say a group of them can't save France?"

Eponine smiled gratefully and looked up into the blue eyes of the young man. "Will you help us?"

"I suppose I don't really have a choice, do I?" The man said with a shrug.

"Gaspard, non!" The gamine cried, grasping his arm. "This is a suicide mission!"

Gaspard turned to his lover and sighed heavily. He took her face in his hands and Cosette looked away. Whether it was out of chastity, respect or longing, Eponine couldn't be sure.

"Emilie, I have to do this. I cannot let our families starve knowing I could have done something to help. Even if we can only eat every other day, it will still be an improvement than what our lives are like now," Gaspard informed her before turning back to Eponine. "I will gather some friends and head to the barricade before dawn."

"Thank you," Eponine breathed.

"Tell them that we sent you," Cosette chimed in. "These are suspicious times. Cosette and Eponine," Cosette reminded him with a bright smile.

Gaspard nodded once before leading Emilie away by the elbow. The red-headed gamaine looked over her shoulder at Eponine and Cosette for a moment before pulling herself free.

"I will go to Saint-Denis," she declared, not looking at her boyfriend. "I will take some friends and we will help you recruit for the revolution." She paused and gave a hopeless shrug. "I can't let Gaspard and his friends do this alone."

A smile appeared on Eponine's face for the first time since Enjolras left her at Cosette's home. She nodded solemnly and thanked the pair again before they left.

Eponine and Cosette stood in silence for a few moments before Eponine looked up at the waning moon. "We still have a couple of hours before sunrise and then several more until we can go to the barricade."

Cosette nodded, looking up at the sky as well. She stood up straighter and turned her attention back to Eponine. "Shall we continue our efforts, then?"

Eponine looked over at the blonde. "Did you really expect otherwise, Alouette?"

Cosette smiled softly at the brunette and shook her head. "Not even for an instant."

The strange pair carried on their way, walking as far as their feet could drag them. They met with people of all ages who were moved by their sentiments, at least enough to inspect their own nearest barricade. Sisters and lovers of young men dashed out in all directions, informing the neighbourhoods of Paris about the cause, in desperate hopes that if more joined, less would die.

They clung to the shadows desperately whenever a stray member of the National Guard or police officer rushed by on his way to a barricade somewhere in the city. They could only hope that their brothers and sisters in arms had the same sense.

By dawn, Eponine and Cosette were barely able to walk anymore out of shear exhaustion. After making their way as far as Saint-Lambert before heading back to Saint-Michel and their friends.

* * *

**A/N: THREE. THOUSAND. WORDS.**

**I think you can kind of see where things are going with the revolution now.**

**Okay, so I know that I said that I would get this up on Sunday but I was asked to be a bridesmaid in my friend's wedding, so I spent most of Sunday twirling and researching awesome presents to get them.**

**My other friend is also moving halfway around the world tomorrow which is a drag. She'll have a blast, though.**

**And I… am stuck where I am. So there's that.**

**However, I have one thing they don't have and that's you lovely reviewers.**

**You honestly make my day brighter and I can never stop checking my e-mails after I post a chapter. I've had to write four from the heart cards (two engagement, a birthday and a going away) and I have consistently received welling up or beaming smiles from my messages and I feel like some of that has to do with you. Your praise in my writing has offered me more confidence in the articulation of my feelings towards my friends and I am truly grateful for that. Your positivity and good vibes have really moved me in a positive direction in the past few weeks and I am incredibly grateful for that.**

**As far as the next chapter is concerned, I've barely started, I'm sorry to say. I hope to get something out by the end of the week.**

**Next chapter brings the beginning of some action, though!**

**I hope I was able to convey Eponine's mixed emotions concerning Cosette well enough. Also Montparnasse. I've known a lot of cocky 17-23 year old guys in my life and they're pretty standard, except for the murder and mayhem.**


	8. Street Fighting Man

Dawn approached far quicker than the revolutionaries or Cosette and Eponine anticipated. Only a few short hours after the battle had calmed down, Enjolras and Les Amis listened as the National Guard began to rustle behind the barricade.

With every passing hour, Enjolras seemed to stand taller than before. He was more ridged, falling far more into his reputation of a marble statue. Whether this was done in excitement of a new tomorrow or the fear of death, Les Amis could not decide.

Those fair few who truly knew Enjolras knew that it was likely a combination of both.

"Any news about the other barricades?" Enjolras asked Combeferre as the two walked quickly from one end of their area to the other, inspecting their troops.

Combeferre shook his head. "Not that I know of, Enjolras. I'll go check with Jehan and see if he knows of anything."

Enjolras nodded sharply. "We need more information," Enjolras said regretfully. "Someone is going to need to infiltrate the Guard and figure out their plans."

Combeferre hesitated. "Gavroche implied that his young gang was lurking around the city, gathering information but I understand what you mean. You need one of us to get first hand information," Combeferre looked over to the line of students that rested along the brick walls of the Saint-Michel alley. "I'll see who I can get to volunteer."

"Make sure that you can vouch for his character," Enjolras commented wryly. Guilt still coursed through him at the thought of his mistake regarding Javert, something he took full responsibility for.

Combeferre nodded and offered Enjolras a reassuring smile before he set off towards Jehan.

Enjolras continued his inspections, bending down to his men to have a quick word and a ensure that their weapons were in working order. He sent a silent word of gratitude towards his late grandfather, who taught him everything he knew about guns.

It was clear that Les Amis were running low of gunpowder and ammunition but Enjolras prayed they would be able to find other means to defeat their foes, should the battle come to it.

After inspecting each man, Enjolras pulled away from the crowd, choosing to observe them instead of mingle. He was still plagued with doubt concerning the chances of the revolution. The night had already robbed them of no less than ten good men, with several more fighting fever and illness in the cafe.

Though Enjolras knew sending Eponine away was for her own good, he thoroughly regretted the choice in that moment, as dawn broke over Paris. The revolution needed all the help it could get.

Even if all they could get was a grief-stricken teenager.

Valjean approached Enjolras quietly. He stood stoically next to the troubled revolutionary and gazed out at the volunteers. "I think that you are doing a fine job with these young men, son," he commented quietly.

Enjolras's blue eyes snapped towards the older man. No one had had addressed him as "son" in a comforting manner since the brighter days of his relationship with his father. As close as Enjolras got was when his professors would use it as a way to patronize him or his fellow students

"What can you tell me about Marius?" Valjean asked softly. The older man was clearly desperate to know about his daughter's lost love, about the young man who had managed to win her heart in a manner of days.

Enjolras hesitated, unsure of what to say. Though he was skilled at militaristic and socialistic rhetoric, somehow being able to capture and convey his own personal feelings concerning individuals had always been harder for him.

"This is perhaps a question more suited to Eponine," Enjolras admitted, racking his brain for what to say. "He was incredibly kind, though his head could often be up in the clouds. He was a Bonapartist. I suppose he never got to the point in his historical texts that would have told him that Napoleon was not much better than our tyrannical monarchs," Enjorlas commented, unable to suppress his smile. It was an argument he shared with the younger man often and was sad he would never be able to have again. "Despite that lapse in judgement, I would say he was one of the finest men I have ever known. People I have ever known." Enjolras amended quickly. "He was passionate about life and liberty. Love too, I suppose."

Valjean smiled softly at the younger man. "He sounds like a fine man. Cosette would have been well suited to him, I think."

"They are all fine men," Enjolras said firmly, turning his attention back to soldiers.

"I pray that no more will be lost," Valjean said solemnly.

Enjolras nodded, refusing to comment on the sentiment. Any comment would be an admission of doubt and that was unacceptable at the current crossroads. Despite the swelling feeling of fear that they would all fall, Enjolras refused to say anything of the kind out loud.

Combeferre and Jehan ran up to Enjolras and Valjean excitedly, dragging a young boy with them. Enjolras recognized him as one of the boys in Gavroche's street gang.

"Go on, Jacques, tell Enjolras exactly what you told us," Combeferre urged the boy. Enjolras raised an eyebrow at his friend, who responded simply with a shake of his head, sending his sandy hair into his eyes. The philosopher was grinning broadly, contrasting with the rather desperate situation they found themselves in.

Jacques cleared his throat as he stepped in front of the revolutionary leader. His cheeks flushed red with pride as he looked up at Enjolras, who was standing regally tall and proud. All of the boys who lived in the elephant revered each of Les Amis, but the one they all admired most was Enjolras.

Though his reputation as a cold, calculating leader preceded him, Enjolras always made it a point to treat the young boys like adults. After all, their constant suffering and hunger had forced them to grow up far faster than those in their bourgeois cohort. Enjolras did not see the point in treating them like children when they never had the chance to be one.

Enjolras bent down slightly, putting himself on the same level as the brave boy.

"The lads and I have just been around the city, sir, looking at the other barricades," Jaques began nervously, not quite looking Enjolras in the eye.

"And how do they look, Jacques?" Enjolras asked in his calmest tone, trying to put the young urchin at ease. "Have they fallen?"

Jacques paused for a moment and glanced back at Jehan, who gave him an encouraging smile. "No!" Jacques declared happily. "They're only growing. Over the last hour or so, many of the barricades have had far more volunteers than they even know what to do with! I even ran past some heading here! In Saint-Germaine, they're actually sending some volunteers to Montmartre and other areas. Another boy told me that they're building more barricades near the Place de la Concorde and the Champs-Élysées!"

Enjolras stood up straight and looked Combeferre in the eye. The master rhetorician was stunned into silence for the first time in a very long while.

"The Champs-Élysées is a wealthy neighbourhood," Enjolras said bluntly to Combeferre.

"It's working, Enjolras," Combeferre said with a bright smile. "Barricades all over the city are taking off, according to Gavroche's gang. It's only a matter of time before they come here as well!"

"Perhaps they'll bring supplies!" Jehan added excitedly.

Enjolras moved to rest a hand of Jacques's shoulder. "You and your friends have done us a great service, Jacques. I am very proud of you all."

"You're the one that's doing us the service, Monsieur! Fighting so that we will not have to suffer like our parents," Jacques declared, standing taller after Enjolras's words of praise. "There are other rumours, though."

Enjolras furrowed his brow, glancing at Combeferre. Combeferre shrugged, indicating that he didn't know of the other news the boy brought.

"There are rumours that the Patron-Minette and their network of the underworld are assisting in the rebellion," Jacques said in a soft whisper, as if he was nervous the criminals would overhear his tattling.

Combeferre cocked his head to the side. "Who are the Patron-Minette?" Combeferre asked in the same hushed tone. Enjolras was curious about the group that brought fear to the brave young boy but couldn't ask. There was a lot that Enjolras didn't know about the world he was fighting for.

"Thieves, sir. They'll do just about anything for a franc or two. Some say that they're not terribly good at what they do, but from what I know, they're not to be messed around with," Jacques explained. Despite his obvious wariness towards the group he described, there was a clear pride in his voice at being able to inform the students about something the didn't know.

"Why on earth would they want to help us?" Combeferre asked incredulously.

"Perhaps they feel some sort of loyalty to their class?" Jehan suggested. Despite the romantic's own education, he couldn't help but glance at Enjolras when he offered his explanation, looking for the approval of his leader.

Enjolras shook his head. "They were turned criminals by the misfortune of their circumstance. A thief is nothing more than a man who was driven to the brink by the selfishness of the monarchy." Enjolras declared, though the slight wrinkle that dawned between his brows showed a sliver of doubt towards the accuracy of his own declaration.

Still, Valjean's head snapped towards the blonde and a corner of his mouth twitched in agreement.

A slight commotion started closer to the cafe. Enjolras glanced at his fellow soldiers and they quickly made their way towards the noise.

Enjolras's eyes widened as a series of young gamins pushed their way through the small alley that Enjolras had led Eponine through earlier in the night. Their small, starved frames allowed them to move with ease. Many clung to guns that may have belonged to their fathers a generation ago but their faces shone with pride as they began to line up in front of Enjolras.

By the time that they were finished filtering through the small gap, over forty men stood in a line in front of Les Amis. They stood proudly in front of Les Amis, their faces covered in the soot and dirt they didn't have the opportunity to wash away with great regularity.

Combeferre shook his head in disbelief and beamed at Enjolras, who took a few steps forward.

Enjolas couldn't believe what he was seeing as the men stood proudly in front of him. He struggled to find something to say, to convey his gratefulness towards the men but his suspicious nature plagued him. He had come to accept that the revolution was likely to be futile that he couldn't believe that the men come to assist the cause with pure hearts and loyalty.

"We have already been victims of traitors. How do we know that you're not counted among the spies of the National Guard?" Enjolras asked harshly as he approached the young men, who began to rustle and look at each other.

"We're here because of what Gaspard told us," a red-headed gamin interjected as he crossed his arms over his chest. He clearly wasn't willing to be questioned by a bourgeois. "We are here for our people."

Enjolras narrowed his eyes at the outspoken man, clearly miffed at the distinction in citizenry. "And which of you is Gaspard?"

A dark haired man was pushed by his friend out of the line. Gaspard cleared his throat and fidgeted with the barrel of his gun. "I was convinced by a pair of girls to come here," Gaspard admitted. "Their desperation convinced me that we should help."

Enjolras's eyes widened at this and he walked closer to Gaspard. "What girls? What were their names?"

Gaspard glanced helplessly back at his friends, who shrugged. "I didn't get their names, Monsieur. There was a blonde and a brunette. The brunette was dressed like a man and the blonde was far richer than she. Still, they worked towards the same goal." Gaspard paused again and glanced at his friends, this time with a calm understanding. "If there is something that we can do to help our families and decedents, then we don't really have a choice in the matter."

One of Gaspard's friends stepped forward, taking his rightful spot beside his friend. "We have a duty to our families, Monsieur. We are needed to work and commit crimes, which is why so few of us will come out, but those of us who are here will fight for our families and our friends."

Considering this, Enjolras took a step back and examined each man. They were far thinner than the students, with filthy faces and hair so dirty that the colour was often a muddled brown. Though their situations were clearly desperate, their eyes showed commitment and pride.

"It is clear to me now that you are all committed citizens," Enjolras declared passionately, backing away from Gaspard. "And we are grateful for your camaraderie and assistant to this cause. And please, gentlemen, address me as Enjolras."

Enjolras turned to Combeferre. "Take them to Musain and sort through their wares. Arm those who are without and explain the events that they have missed," Enjolras commanded.

Combeferre nodded and moved to address the gamins.

Turning towards Valjean, Enjolras's patriotic smile faltered. "It would seem that Eponine did not heed my advice," Enjorlas remarked. "I suppose it was always unlikely that she would. From what little I know of the girl, she has trouble commanding to orders."

Enjolras paused and shifted under the weight of Vlajean's eyes. The broken look that lodged itself there after hearing of his daughter's escapades was clear. Beneath that was a clear shine that portrayed years of heartache and pain, a look that wasn't present when Enjolras had first witnessed the man gaze down at his daughter.

"Cosette has lost her love. It is not surprising that she would join Eponine in her recruitment efforts. She has been longing for her freedom for some time. Perhaps if I had indulged her wish, this wouldn't have happened," Valjean said pensively, his back ridged with worry for the welfare of his daughter.

"Eponine is incredibly resourceful and bright. She knows these streets like no other, I have no doubt that she'll be able to protect Cosette, Monsieur Leblanc," Enjolras assured the older man.

Enjolras glanced up at the sky to distract himself and tried to calculate how much longer they had until dawn. A lightness in the sky that hadn't been present began to show, signifying that time was drawing short.

A part of him was furious with Eponine for disregarding the terms of their deal. She had promised to remain with Cosette. Even if he knew that the promise was futile, he had still hoped that her commitment would overshadow her pride.

Despite that part of him that was angry, Enjolras had to admit that he was relieved that Eponine refused to listen to reason. Perhaps he needed her help more than he wanted to admit.

With a nod, Enjolras left Valjean to his contemplation and walked closer to the barricade. His heart pounded with every passing minute. The sun was rising quickly and Enjolras knew it was only a matter of time before the National Guard would begin their assault on the revolutionaries.

Grantaire stumbled up to stand beside Enjolras, barely able to refrain from passing out. He clapped Enjolras on the shoulder. "An interesting turn of events, isn't it, Apollo?"

Enjolras wrinkled his nose, both at the nickname he hated and the stench of brandy that radiated from the art student. "I told you that they would come when we needed them, Grantaire. Now you should know to believe in what I say."

"I always believe in you, Enjolras," Grantaire slurred with a slight sadness tainting his tone. With that promise, Grantaire pulled back from his leader and offered him a drunken salute before stumbling towards the cafe.

Enjolras stared after his friend and shook his head. He continued his trek to the front lines, nodding at the men he passed along the way.

It was only a matter of time before he was joined by Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who flanked him on either side.

"The volunteers are armed. They thought to bring gunpowder, which is fortunate for us. I mentioned our need to Jacques and he went back to his duties. We'll see if he can find someone to bring us some. He seems to think he can," Combeferre explained, slightly out of breath from running around.

"The wounded are recovering, though several are ill with fever. We have a fair amount of medical supplies still available, though," Courfeyrac added. "Joly has been using what little he can at a time."

Enjolras nodded and turned to his two friends. "Thank you for the information," he hesitated and offered them a small smile. "Your support and friendship means a great deal to me."

Courfeyrac and Combeferre grinned at each other.

"Why, Enjolras, that was almost affectionate!" Courfeyrac exclaimed gleefully. Combeferre laughed at his friend's joke and even Enjolras couldn't stop his smile from widening.

With that parting sentiment, Enjolras turned and moved towards the front of the barricade and gazed out at his men, who were ready for battle.

"This is it, my friends!" Enjolras exclaimed. "Dawn approaches and with it, we will fight our foes. We will destroy those who wish to oppress our fellow citizens and allow them to suffer for their own benefit. We will no longer stand by as the tyrannical nature of the monarchy forces itself upon us due to nothing more than the idleness and complacency of men!"

The students roared back in agreement while the gamin volunteers merely nodded, their station in life offering them a far more realistic look on the revolution.

"It will be long and it will be bloody, but with the arrival of our committed citizens, I have no doubt that we have what is needed to ensure that France will be free!"

The men cheered again and Enjolras heard the muffled speeches of the National Guard behind him.

"And I have some very good news to report about our brothers around Paris!" Enjolras announced, causing a hush to fall over the men.

Enjolras paused, allowing the men to calm down. "According to a very reliable source, new recruits like our new friends over here are joining barricades around the city, making each stronger with every man that joins the cause!"

A roar, even louder than the two previous one echoed through the barricade. Students began to filter over to the gamins, who were standing proudly on their own. Before long, handshakes and names were being exchanged as the National Guard began to assemble on the other side of the furniture barricade.

"This is it, my friends! My fellow citizens! We fight here, on this June morning not for our own glory but for France!" Enjolras cried as he turned towards the barricade. He lifted the gun he carried at his side and brought it to his eye.

Behind him, the members of Les Amis de l'ABC, both new and old, copied their leader. The alley in Saint-Michel was now completely lit by the early sun, though the blast of the first cannon-fire of the battle pushed soot and dirt into the air, and for a moment it was night again.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter was going to be the battle but then there was a lot that had to get done before the battle. The battle comes next chapter and this one and that one are pretty much part one and part two.**

**There's a lot about Marius in here because I feel kind of bad about killing him off? I'M SORRY, MARIUS!**

**How's my militaristic rhetoric? Probably not good. I should get a Band of Brothers refresher or something before I post the next part.**

**So this chapter is pretty much just Enjolras/France but the Enjolras/Eponine will be coming up quickly!**

**By which I mean they'll interact… in a few chapters.**

**Yay?**

**So next chapter will probably be up Friday or Saturday, so keep an eye out! I'm about 1000 words in, so that's not too shabby. **

**Also feel free to add me to tumblr: high-plains-drifter**


	9. Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun

**A/N: Trigger warning for a fair amount of violence and gun violence.**

* * *

The battle escalated far more quickly than Enjolras had expected. Within the hour, National Guardsmen and the Paris police were scaling the barricade without fear, choosing to take the offence instead of the defence.

It was a surprise move to say the least. It made Enjolras wonder what laid beyond their own small barricade in Saint-Michel. There had to be a reason that the National Guard sent their men over the pile of furniture, only to be met with the guns and knives of the revolutionaries.

Still, despite the heavy losses on the side of the National Guard, it wasn't long before they had infiltrated the barricade.

Jacques's warnings about the underworld of Paris rang true. The criminals and murderers that haunted the sewers of their city acted as snipers and slit the throats of the National Guard. They pulled the police into alley ways and dark corners, taking revenge for family members and friends that had been imprisoned over the years.

If asked outwardly, each member of Les Amis would declare that they were disgusted by the actions of the criminals, but inwardly, they couldn't help but be relieved. This turn of events did, however, beg the question: does the path to change alter the message of the revolution?

Enjolras couldn't be sure but as he dashed into the Cafe Musain with Combeferre, an injured Jehan between them, Enjolras couldn't really bring himself to care.

"Gavroche!" Enjolras called, summoning the boy that was in his sworn protection. The dirty-haired blonde rushed over to his leader, standing proudly in front of him.

"Oui, Enjolras?" Gavroche asked, trying not to stare at the bloodied poet.

Enjolras shifted Jehan to Joly, who had rushed to help. "Have you heard any news from the other barricades?" He asked.

Gacroche opened his mouth to answer when the blow of another cannon rattled the windows of the cafe. After a moment, the young boy tried again. "Oui, my friend François was here about fifteen minutes ago. He told me that the barricades in the north of the city have already forced the National Guard to retreat. The members of the National Guard that are left are coming here. He said some of the other revolutionaries will follow them."

Enjolras nodded quickly and bent down to look the boy in the eye. "I need you to get out of here, Gavroche."

"But Monsieur!" Gavroche interjected in vain before Enjolras raised a hand to stop him.

"You and your boys have been a great deal of help to us, Gavroche," Enjolras began before resting his hand on the young boy's shoulder. "But from what you have just told me, the National Guard is heading here in hopes of cutting off the revolution at its source. They will not be successful," Enjolras stated confidently.

Over the last two hours, Enjolras had seen the people of France rise to the heights that he always knew they could. No longer did he hold the doubts that plagued him in the night. Once dawn and the calvary came, there was nothing more to fear.

"I promised your sister that I would keep you safe," Enjolras said softly. "I refuse to break a promise."

Gavroche's face fell at the mention of his sister's name and he seemed to curl in on himself, still plagued with the guilt of Marius's death. "But what should I do instead of fight with you, Enjolras?" He asked, ready to be given an order from his leader.

Enjolras smiled at him. "Find your boys and spread the word to the families of France, to those who did not come. Tell them of our continued success. Tell them that the days of inequality are numbered."

"I will try my hardest, Monsieur Enjolras," Gavroche said, his big blue eyes looking up at his leader. Though the young boy was desperate to remain with the students, who had become his mentors over the last few months, he couldn't help but be eager to utilize the same rhetorical skills that his leader possessed.

Enjolras squeezed the boy's shoulder proudly.

With a final crooked smile, Garcroche left his leader to join his rag-tag gang of gamins. It was refreshing for the young boy to be among upper-class men who looked at him with something more than pity or shame. Though initially sceptical, Gavroche had come to believe that Les Amis actually believed what they preached. They actually believed that one day, everyone would be equal. It offered the young gamin a hope that he had never felt and was desperate to keep alive.

Gavroche scurried away, leaving Enjolras watching him from behind.

"He'll be fine," Joly panted as he ran up to Enjolras. "Jehan, I mean."

Enjolras nodded and glanced over at the line of the dead, noticing that the numbers had doubled since he said his final good bye to Marius. "How many have we lost in total?" He asked, careful to keep his tone cold. It would not do anyone any good to hear their leader's voice waver at a time like this.

"About twenty-five," Joly said regretfully.

Enjolras nodded and kept his only thought at that moment to himself.

_It could be worse._

Combeferre rushed back to Enjolras and with a final word of good bye, both ran out the door of the cafe, back to their men.

The scene outside the doors of the Cafe Musain made Enjolras's heart swell with pride. Soldiers, be they students or gamins, worked shoulder to shoulder to fight their enemy. When a National Guardsman stabbed a student with a bayonet, a gamin was there to retaliate with a bullet.

Class distinctions and previous assumptions were lost in the midst of battle as every member of Les Amis de l'ABC worked together to crush the tyrannical regime that had France in an iron grip.

Courfeyrac stood proudly at the head of a platoon, capturing or killing the National Guard as the odd one tried to scamper over the barricade. Every so often, the leaders of the nation's police blasted the barricade with cannon-fire in an attempt to shatter it. While Les Amis spent the first hours of battle the previous evening desperately trying to fix the holes, they had since abandoned that cause.

With the news that they were being fed by runners and members of Gavroche's gang, the barricade seemed unnecessary anymore. The numbers of the National Guard were dwindling rapidly while the number of rebels only seemed to grow.

Though Enjolras was beside himself the hour previous with the thirty-odd volunteers who joined the ranks of the rebellion, those numbers had only swelled. As victory loomed, an increasing number of working and lower-class men rushed to the Cafe Musain and other barricades in a desperate attempt to be part of something bigger than themselves.

The general of the National Guard shouted at his men to get down and Enjolras followed suit, yanking Courfeyrac to the ground as another round of cannon-fire slammed into the barricade.

"They're going to break through!" Courfeyrac shouted, trying to make his voice heard as the National Guard let out another blow.

"Let them!" Enjolras retaliated proudly as he rose to his feet, pulling Courfeyrac with them. "We'll be ready!"

Enjolras made his way to the centre of the alleyway. The men gathered around him without a word, eager to hear of the orders that Enjolras would give them. His commands and leadership abilities had, after all, worked perfect so far.

"Courfeyrac, take your men and be ready to attack on their side," Enjolras commanded firmly, earning a nod from the men in question. Enjolras turned to Combeferre, who had approached with his own gang. "I want you to take these men and protect Musain. Don't let them get to the wounded."

Courfeyrac agreed readily and led his group of soldiers closer to the barricade. They stood close to the wall in an attempt to shield themselves from the debris that resulted when cannons shattered the furniture. Combeferre led his own group of men towards the back, ready to protect the most vulnerable members of the revolution.

Enjolras turned to the remaining men, who stood proudly before him. A third shot rang out, forcing him to pause. "The rest of you are with me," Enjolras said firmly. With a shout of approval, the remaining volunteers stood in semi-straight lines, their guns and any ammunition they could carry clutched in their hands.

Valjean moved forward to stand beside Enjolras and gave the younger boy a small smile.

With one more blast, the barricade fell apart. The donated furniture was largely nothing more than a pile of rubble and the National Guard approached Les Amis. Enjolras raised his gun to his eye and let out a shot, the rest of the men followed suit.

Courfeyrac and his platoon dodged the ranks of the National Guard and moved past the former barricade with a rallying cry. The knocked members of the Guard unconscious with the handle of their guns, shooting them when they were forced to.

Every time Enjolras witnessed a member of Les Amis or the National Guard take their first life, he could see a shift in them. The light of innocence died as their victim fell to the ground.

If there was one thing he regretted about this revolution, it was that.

"We fight for freedom!" Enjolras shouted, earning echoes of support behind him. "Storm the barricade!" Enjolras commanded.

The men who stood behind him shot out and began scaling the piles of debris, executing any member of the National Guard that tried to stop them.

A National Guardsman approached Enjolras. Enjolras smiled sadly at the man before raising his gun and taking aim. With a single shot, the man was dead.

Enjolras regretted the deaths of any French citizen but it was not the time to be lenient, not when they were so close to gaining freedom for every French citizen. If his mother had been there, she would have told him that he was losing his mortal soul with every life he took.

If he could, he would have told her that his soul meant very little at all. That he would gladly take his place in hell if it liberated Patria from the tyrannical hands of the monarchy and bourgeois.

Enjolras looked up and quickly took stock of his men. Courfeyrac was no where in sight, deep behind enemy lines. Valjean had scaled the debris with the other members of Enjolras's platoon, following Courfeyrac's path. There were very few members of the National Guard left on Les Amis's side of the barricade. Enjolras took short work of two members of the police that approached him.

He scrambled and moved towards a nearby wall to take stock of how much ammunition he had left, though with a start, he noticed that his supply was completely depleted.

Four members of the National Guard spotted him and let out shouts of happiness at having cornered the infamous leader of the rebellion.

Looking around, Enjolras could see that he was alone in facing his four foes. The revolutionaries that were scaling the barricade were no longer in sight, having made it to the other side. Shots of guns and strangled screams could be heard in the distance. Enjolras prayed the latter sounds came from the enemy.

Enjolras moved to untie the crimson flag that he had secured around his waist. It was still stained with Marius's blood from Enjolras's futile attempt at healing his wound. It only made Enjolras more proud to clutch it in his hand as the four National Guardsmen approached him.

"You said that the people would not come. It seems that you underestimate the dream of equality," Enjolras remarked as he stared down the barrels of their gun. He smiled proudly.

"Yet none of them are here to save you," one of the lackeys of the monarchy sneered, cocking his gun and taking aim at Enjolras.

Enjolras shrugged and held his flag up a little higher. "My work is done. The citizens of France will be free from the oppressive laws you uphold," he remarked as two of the other National Guardsmen followed their leader and took aim. The fourth merely stood, almost entranced by Enjolras. He did not raise his gun.

There were only two things that Enjolras was sure of in that moment. The first was that there was no doubt that the revolution was going to succeed.

The second was that he was about to die.

He accepted both of these facts with pride swelling his heart.

Four shots echoed down the alley way, tearing through Enjolras's torso and leg.

The pain was excruciating, almost blinding Enjolras with its intensity. The world around him darkened as the unrelenting force of his pain stopped any speech he may have wanted to give. Enjolras collapsed against a wall, struggling to stand as his vision slowly blackened. He was jarred as several more shots rang out, but within a few seconds, the leader of the revolution fell to the ground.

* * *

**A/N: The End.**

**Totally just kidding, by the way. See you guys in a few days.**


	10. Police and Thieves

"Please, Eponine, just eat something before you go back out there," Cosette begged her former tormentor. "Bread isn't enough to sustain you and God knows how long the fighting will go on."

Following Cosette and Eponine's recruitment efforts around various neighbourhoods in Paris, they decided to venture back to Rue Plumet for a brief rest. It was difficult work, trying to persuade scared citizens to stand up for a country that had done nothing but beat them and their ancestors down for centuries.

Together, Cosette and Eponine made a convincing pair. They were able to show both sides of poverty, those who grew up in it and those who lost everything. They showed that someone cannot be born into a class, it is all about luck. With a revolution, perhaps that luck could be spread more evenly upon the people of France.

Cosette thought that their efforts were largely successful. Men pledged their allegiance to Les Amis and women ran off in varying directions, promising to do their part in the last-minute recruitment efforts. Eponine was shocked Enjolras and his merry gang of revolutionaries had never thought to use women in their desperate attempt to gain volunteers. It was far harder for a man to look into the face of a woman and admit his reservations and cowardice.

After the bells of Notre Dame signalled that it was six in the morning, Cosette and Eponine had trudged their way back to Cosette's home in order to take a brief rest. The walk itself had taken a fair amount of time. The ventured several neighbourhoods away and their movements had to be slow and cautious, so as to not jar the attention of any member of the police or National Guard.

It had been hard enough for Cosette to convince Eponine to come inside of her house to rest for an hour or two, but trying to force some food into the young brunette was proving to be impossible.

"I suppose I should gather the money for your friend, Montparnasse," Cosette commented as she forced more food on Eponine's plate.

Eponine's eyes shot up to Cosette. "You cannot seriously thing you're going to give him that money."

Cosette shrugged her shoulders. "I gave him my word," Cosette explained softly.

"But Alouette-"

"Stop," Cosette demanded, raising a hand. Even though her word was sharp, her tone remained lyrical and gentle. "I am not just the sheltered princess you and my father believe me to be, Eponine. I can be more than that."

"Montparnasse is dangerous, Cosette. He will take everything from you and not blink an eye," Eponine warned, trying desperately to convince herself that she was not pleading for Cosette's safety.

"And I have very little left. I am no fool, Eponine. With the National Guard acting as mad as they are, the chances may not be good for Papa. I try to remain optimistic but, given the circumstances, I don't believe I'm having much success with that." Cosette paused and picked at the lace on her white gown. "And I lost Marius just when I found him," Cosette said in a broken whisper. Tears began to brim over her eyes and she hastily wiped them away. "I used to just wish for a friend and instead I found love. Now I have neither."

Eponine shifted awkwardly. She really had no words of comfort to offer the other girl. Instead, she took a bite of the food that Cosette had offered, in a vain attempt to make the girl at least mildly happy.

Cosette dragged her eyes back up to Eponine and she smiled slightly as Eponine chewed. "Monsieur Montparnasse has done us a great favour, even if it is in his best interest. The least I can do is follow through with my word."

"You don't know what you're getting into," Eponine sighed before relenting.

Cosette shrugged and wiped the remaining streaks of tears off her face. "I guess I'll find out. I've already experienced what it was like to live in freedom the past few hours. I'm willing to take the dangers as well."

Eponine finished the meal Cosette had laid out for her in silence. The blonde was an odd girl to be sure. Trapped by her loneliness, she had almost seemed to forget about the torment that Eponine and her sister Azelma had inflicted on Cosette when she was forced to live in the Inn. Instead, Cosette treated Eponine like an old friend, trying her hardest to ensure that the gamine was taking care of herself. It was almost like the blonde cared for Eponine, like every bad feeling was swept away in favour of camaraderie and friendship.

Unfortunately, Eponine's jealousy wasn't so easily suppressed.

"Thank you for the food," Eponine said, almost gritting out the words. Though Cosette's gesture was kind, Eponine hated charity. She preferred to earn her money and food herself, even if her methods were illegal. When she pulled a few Francs out of a man's pocket, there was a sense of accomplishment, even if she did try to push down the sinful feeling.

"Anytime," Cosette replied kindly. "I suppose you're going to continue your efforts in helping the revolution?" She asked, though both already knew the answer.

"I really don't have a choice," Eponine responded with a shrug. "It's the least I can do."

Cosette smiled softly at the brunette and shook her head, her golden hair flinging itself around her with the action. "I think that you've already done more than enough, but I admire your dedication to this cause."

Eponine's eyes shot up to meet Cosette's and a slight shock of guilt pulsated within her.

If only Cosette knew Eponine's original intention for being at the barricade.

Still, at some point in the night, Eponine's dedication to the revolution transcended above protecting or impressing Marius. Perhaps it was when the light in Marius's eyes faded for the final time. Perhaps it was when she first stitched up a revolutionary who was injured trying to make life easier for others.

Something in Eponine knew that it was when Enjolras told her she was capable of something more than stealing from the wealthy or pining over someone who could never love her.

Eponine watched as Cosette flitted gracefully around the kitchen, placing dishes in cupboards and smoothing down linens. A knot twisted in Eponine's stomach as she thought about Marius. There was no doubt that Cosette, in all her beauty and unwavering kindness, would have made Marius a fine partner.

Though that would never have the chance to transpire now, Eponine felt a familiar surge of jealousy. Though she dreamed that Marius would take her away from the horrific life she had been forced into by poverty and misfortune, there had always been something within Eponine that doubted whether Marius could have loved her even if she had remained well-off.

Eponine pulled her cap back onto her head and tucked any stray pieces of hair away. Cosette watched her former tormentor stand without a word but offered Eponine a supportive smile.

"Hopefully I see you again, Eponine," Cosette said truthfully.

Eponine hesitated and looked over at Cosette before offering a smile of her own. "Hopefully," she echoed, realizing with a start that she meant it.

With a final wave, Eponine made her way to the back door and sneaked out.

After exiting Cosette's garden, Eponine dodged down alleyways on her path towards Saint-Michel. As she turned a corner, she froze in shock as members of the National Guard trotted past her on horseback. She clung to the shadows, adrenaline pumping through her.

Suddenly, Eponine found herself pressed to the wall of the alley. Despite herself, she wished Cosette was still with her.

"What are you doing here?"

"'Parnasse?" Eponine croaked out, the wind taken from her. Montparnasse stepped back slightly and Eponine's eyes widened as she took in his outfit. His fine wares were replaced by the uniform of the National Guard, only instead of their usual expression of blank obedience, Montparnasse was smirking to hide his worry.

"Where are you going? You should find shelter elsewhere," Montparnasse told her, ensuring that his tone was able to convey the fact that he was not requesting this from her, but telling her.

Eponine shook her head. "I need to go back to the barricade, 'Parnasse. They need me," she said passionately, pulling her arm free.

Montparnasse scoffed. "Need you for what, Eponine? What on earth do you have to offer a group of naive bourgeois boys, except perhaps your body," Montparnasse leered, allowing his moss coloured eyes to rake over her form.

Crossing her arms over her bound chest, Eponine glared at Montparnasse. "I'll have you know that I was assisting the medic with the wounded," Eponine declared proudly, raising her chin a little higher. "The medic and the leader of the revolution have both praised me for my good work."

"Yet they sent you away," Montparnasse countered, his plump lip curling into a sneer which did little to detract from his attractive features. "That doesn't seem to me like they have particular need of you."

Eponine remained silent at this, choosing not to reveal the source of her grief and the true reason Enjolras prohibited her from returning to the barricade to Montparnasse. The thief would only use the information against her.

Montparnasse paused and looked around Eponine. "Where is your little blonde friend?"

"She is not my friend," Eponine bit out harshly. "You better not hurt her, 'Parnasse."

"You know, for someone who isn't your friend, you sure seem to care a lot about the delicate flower," Montparnasse commented, checking his well-kept nails.

Eponine's jaw tightened and after a moment of silence, Montparnasse looked back at her. He rolled his eyes and dropped his hand. "I won't hurt her, 'Ponine," he said in an exasperated tone. The tone was familiar, as Montparnasse often made use of it when the two were younger when Eponine would find any way to annoy him that she could, just for fun. "Well, unless she wants me to," he added with a wink. "You know how I like my bourgeois girls."

"You like every girl," Eponine retorted, earning a sharp laugh from Montparnasse.

"Jealous are we, my 'Ponine?" He asked, reaching over to her to grasp her chin.

Eponine jerked away and shook her head. "You wish, 'Parnasse," she snapped. "Now let me pass!"

"Give me one good reason to let you go, ma cherie," Montparnasse requested, tilting his government-issued hat back slightly.

"Gavroche is still there, Montparnasse!" Eponine said in a harsh whisper, effectively quieting the murderer. Eponine knew that Montparnasse harboured a soft spot for the young gamin and would be devastated to see harm come to him, even if he would never admit it. "I have to go to him."

Montparnasse stayed silent, refusing to move but he let Eponine slip past him. She glanced up at him for a moment, almost not believing that he was letting her by. Taking her chance, she dodged past him and began her journey down the alleyway.

"Wait, Eponine," Montparnasse sighed, moving so he stood in front of her once again. "It is getting worse out there. The National Guard are shooting anyone that even looks remotely like a revolutionary." Montparnasse reached up and took Eponine's cap off of her before reaching down to the gun holster of his borrowed suit. He shoved it into her hand, keeping a mask of cool indifference on his face.

Somehow Montparnasse was able to make himself sound indifferent as he issued the warning, though both parties knew that the young man cared more than he would ever let on.

Eponine looked up at Montparnasse with wide eyes. "What about you, though?" She asked.

"I have my knife," Montparnasse said with his usual barely-evil grin. "I'll be just fine. It's almost embarrassing how terribly the National Guard are fighting now. They know they're going to die," Montparnasse paused and his grin turned slightly manic. "It's hilarious!"

Scoffing, Eponine dodged past Montparnasse again. "Thanks for the gun," she said as she walked into the eerily empty street.

"Keep your hat off, they probably won't kill a girl!"

Rolling her eyes, Eponine resisted the urge to look back at the criminal. Though there was a time in her life where she would have been clinging to Montparnasse's hand desperately as he led her to safety, Eponine was no longer interested in that. She could take care of herself now.

Eponine stopped in her tracks as she came across an abandoned rosette left on the cobblestone ground. She glanced around herself quickly, checking for any sign of the National Guard. Seeing none, she studied the small badge in her hand. It was a simple enough design, contrasting symbolically with the overwhelming ornate choices of the monarchy. She remembered seeing a pin, similar though streaked with his blood, as it rested proudly on Marius's chest.

Ignoring the warnings of Montparnasse, Eponine fastened the badge to her overcoat. In pinning the rosette to her chest, Eponine felt a calmness she had no recollection of ever having. She felt like she was apart of something.

She was eager to keep the feeling alive.

She slipped through the shadows silently. It was eery how empty the streets were despite the battle raging on just a few blocks away. Eponine could hear the gunshots and screams as she got closer to the barricade.

The rare time that she passed people, the scene was harrowing to say the least. Men limping by on route to hospitals with blood gushing from wounds that Eponine had assumed would kill a man instantly. Every so often, she spotted friends of the deceased sobbing as bodies were carried away by grim-faced men. It made Eponine yearn for the barricade, where she could be some help to her new companions.

Eponine was slightly ashamed of the relief she felt when the wounded in question was clad in a National Guard uniform.

She continued slinking towards the barricade in Saint-Michel. Her movements were slow as she heeded Montparnasse's warning. The last thing she needed was to be caught.

Eponine avoided the shortcut she used to lead Enjolras to Cosette's home only a few hours earlier. She wanted a better vantage point to observe the progression of the revolution. On the slim chance that Montparnasse was telling the truth and the revolutionaries were taking over, Eponine figured that the battle would have spread beyond the barricade. As such, sneaking into the back of the barracks would leave her either among friends or exposed to the barrels of the guns of the obedient slaves of the monarchy.

Suddenly she spotted a terrifying figure in the distance. Covered in muck, a man attempted to go unnoticed as he carried another on his back. A surge of fear washed over Eponine. There was a decent chance that the man in question was her father or a member of Patron-Minette who had not been as susceptible to bribery as Montparnasse.

Despite herself, Eponine walked a little closer to the pair. Through the harsh brown sludge, she could see unconscious figure that the man carried had a head full of golden curls, startling Eponine. There was only one person she could recall with such enviable hair.

Eponine moved a little closer to them, careful to not be seen by the questionable gentleman. Upon closer inspection, a knot formed in her stomach as she realized that her suspicions had been correct.

It was Enjolras.

* * *

**A/N: So I'm not entirely sure about this chapter, to be honest. I just had to move shit along. It was originally going to be more chapters but this has already been so dragged out that I had to get some plot development done.**

**As for the next chapter, I'm not completely sure. I have a pretty heavy week so maybe by Thursday or Friday? I feel like it won't take me long but we'll see. I'll have to re-watch Les Miserables because it's been a while. This is going to be much easier after it comes out on DVD.**

**Real life is beating me down this week but let's see how this goes, shall we?**

**Apologies for the late responses for chapter nine. Shan't happen this time!**

**Next chapter is going to be Valjean, Eponine and Enjolras centric (though Enjolras probably won't be doing much of the talking!)**

**Also, what do you think of Montparnasse? That little psycho's finding his way into my heart. Cosette too. Cosette's ruining my plans with her kindness and new found bravery. **


	11. Wave of Mutilation

Eponine stood in shock as the absurdly strong man continued on his way with Enjolras on his back. She still couldn't see who the man in question, as his face was covered in filth, but Eponine's experience with grave robbers clouded her judgement.

There was no question in her mind what she had to do.

Forgetting Montparnasse's warning, Eponine took off into the light of the street and ran towards Enjolras. Like she had with Cosette, Eponine felt a duty to keep Enjolras safe. After all, Enjolras had inexplicably became something of a friend to her that evening and Eponine never abandoned her friends.

Eponine faced the filthy man, prepared to fight for Enjolras. Even if the revolutionary leader was dead, Eponine would be damned if she let his body slip into the possession of a grave robber or the National Guard. She pulled the gun Montparnasse shoved into her hand only minutes earlier and cocked it.

"Give him to me," Eponine stated forcefully. Her years of experience with the art of acting allowed her to sound far more threatening than she felt.

"Eponine, get out of the way," the voice of Cosette's father demanded, startling Eponine. "We must get him to the church!" He informed her before dodging around her.

Eponine nodded dumbly and followed behind Valjean as he rushed through the streets towards a nearby church. She couldn't take her eyes off of Enjolras as he was knocked around. She had never seen him look so helpless. It frightened her to see such a strong man fallen from grace.

Valjean led her into the church and quickly called for help. Eponine stood in the door, tentative to step foot into the house of God when she herself had abandoned the little religion instilled into her long ago.

Four nuns rushed over to Valjean and paused in shock as they regarded the two men covered in filth and blood and the girl dressed as a boy. It wasn't every day that they were privy to such a trio.

"Please, sisters, this man needs your help!" Valjean said desperately as he walked further into the church. The nuns remained silent but indicated a sick bay. Without a word shared, Valjean hurried towards the area they pointed towards and placed Enjolras on an empty bed.

Eponine followed behind him closely and rushed to Enjolras's side.

The revolutionary leader was clearly in rough shape. From what little she could make out from the dirt that covered him, he seemed dead. The parts of his face that were clear of

filth showed him to be desperately pale, more so than even the wealthiest aristocrat.

A nun pushed Eponine away from the bed as she went about stripping Enjolras's jacket from his form.

Another nun rushed over to Eponine and Valjean, trying to usher them out of the room. "You two won't want to see this," she said gravely. A doctor had hurried over from another patient and tried to help the first nun with Enjolras's clothes.

"We can't leave him!" Eponine cried desperately, unwilling to leave the side of her leader. "I can help you!"

The nun shook her head. "You can help us by praying for him."

Valjean gripped Eponine's elbow firmly and dragged her out of the room. Her shouts of protest echoed in the room, emphasised by the high ceiling of the gothic-era church.

Once they were outside the room, a nun shut the door, effectively keeping Eponine and Valjean out. Eponine wretched her elbow from Valjean's grip and tried to hear the commotion on the other side.

After a few minutes, Eponine heard a mangled scream, clearly coming from Enjolras, from the other side. She went to twist the doorknob but found it locked. She groaned in frustration and twisted the doorknob some more, desperatly pounding at the door to be let in.

"Come, child, that helps no one," Valjean said as he put a hand on Eponine's shoulder and led her away. "Let the sisters and the doctor do what they have to in order to save our friend."

His hand slipped away from her shoulder and he walked over to a nearby wall, leaving Eponine in the centre of the room.

Valjean leaned heavily against the wall, trying to hold himself up. Old age seemed to finally be getting to the seemingly indestructible convict. Hauling a full-grown man a few city blocks while trying to remain undetected by the police would tire any man, Valjean reasoned to himself. However, the unfamiliar ache in his joints and tightness in his chest told another story.

"Will he be okay?" Eponine asked desperately as she walked over to where Valjean was leaning.

Valjean's face was grim as he regarded Eponine. He wanted to tell the young woman that everything would be okay, that Enjolras would make it out of this horrific situation alive and a new France would be waiting for them when they left the church.

Despite his skill at deception, as he looked into her sad brown eyes, he couldn't stand to lie to her. She was clear fed far too many lies in her short time on this earth. Valjean refused to contribute to that trend. Her bravery and noble nature demanded the truth.

"I'm afraid it's in God's hands now," he told her, causing Eponine to sigh in frustration. "Your medic, Joly, bandaged him up the best that he could after the National Guardsmen who shot Enjolras were executed but we knew he had to get him to a place where they could offer him more intensive care."

Eponine furrowed her brows and looked over at the door that they were pushed out of. Just beyond that wall, Enjolras was fighting for his life just because he was fighting for hers. Because he dreamed of a brighter future for those who couldn't even imagine a full meal, let alone respect and opportunity. It seemed grossly unfair that he should be

Eponine stood straighter and made a decision. She had to return to the barricade.

"Monsieur-" Eponine hesitated, slightly shamed that in her adventures with Cosette she never inquired as to what her surname was.

"Fauchelevent," Valjean supplied. A part of him longed to tell the brave girl in front of him what his true identity was, but in the interest of his daughter, he refrained. "Though your friends at the barricade will call me Leblanc. I used a pseudonym to protect my daughter."

Eponine offered the older man a wary smile. "I understand that completely. It's a miracle I even remember my own name anymore." Eponine paused for a moment. "I'm afraid, Monsieur Fauchelevent, that I must get to the barricades. My brother is still there, you see-"

Valjean raised a hand to silence her. "Your brother is the young boy, Gavroche, non?" He asked.

Eponine nodded, fear gripping her heard. "Yes, Monsieur," She answered frantically. "Please tell me, did something happen to him?"

Shaking his head, Valjean rested a comforting hand on Eponine's shoulder. "I saw him leave the barricade. Word is that our young leader there sent him off as a messenger. He and his friends are informing the citizens of Paris of our successes. Les Amis are very found of Gavroche."

Relief flooded Eponine. "Thank God," she muttered, not worrying if the phrase was acceptable etiquette in a church. "All the same, I feel that I have a duty to the barricade."

Valjean smiled down at the girl. "I think you'll find, Mademoiselle, that the barricade is no longer standing. The National Guard blasted it down in a desperate attempt to overthrow the revolution," Valjean explained, his grin getting wider. "They were not successful."

"Do you mean to say that the revolution has been successful?" Eponine asked, shocked that their little movement grew so large that they could actually relieve themselves of the shackles that oppressed them for generations and strive towards a new tomorrow.

"It looks as though the Parisian end will succeed, at the very least. Your brother's friends informed us last night that many other barricades in the city were successful in their actions. When I took Enjolras away, there were only a few members of the police left and they were either dying or captured," Valjean informed her. "The National Guard is largely retreating, no doubt heading to Versailles to protect the King. Many of the remaining revolutionaries are planning to meet them there."

Eponine stood in silence, still in a state of disbelief at Valjean's revelation. She cast her eyes back to the door. She mentally prayed that Enjolras would awaken to see how his revolution would shape the future of France.

Valjean cleared his throat, causing Eponine to turn her attention back to him. "I heard that you and my darling Cosette have had an interesting night as well," Valjean said, raising a greying eyebrow at the young woman.

Eponine swallowed and looked up at Valjean guiltily. "It was all my idea, Monsieur Fauchelevent. You mustn't be mad at Cosette."

Valjean raised a hand and shook his head. "I am not mad, Mademoiselle Eponine. I was merely concerned for her well-being. I'm sure that Cosette has told you that I can be incredibly protective of her."

Eponine shifted slightly, reflecting on her heart-to-heart with Valjean's daughter. "She may have hinted towards that, yes."

"When I found her years ago, she was in an awful state. I would not want her to fall into such a thing again," Valjean explained.

Though Eponine hoped that Valjean did not recognize her as the young girl who took to tormenting Cosette all those years ago, there was a slight twinkle in his blue eyes that made her wonder.

"I promise that she is safe, I made sure of it," Eponine pledged. Valjean offered her a grateful smile and Eponine questioned if she should tell him about Cosette's impending meeting with Montparnasse. Though she wanted to ensure that Cosette was safe to honour Marius's memory, she knew that if Montparnasse didn't get the money he was promised, Cosette would be in even more danger.

Montparnasse was largely interested in money and possessions. As long as he got what he thought he deserved, he would prance along, looking for his next con.

Before she could decide her course of action, a nun dashed into the foyer of the church. Her habit was covered in blood and filth that clearly came from Enjolras. Eponine's stomach clenched and her heart stilled as she readied herself for the worst.

Valjean stood up and stood next to Eponine. He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder to try to offer the young girl comfort. Eponine's mind flashed back when Enjolras had done the same, after Marius had fell. The feeling of his firm hand on her shoulder gave Eponine the strength to complete Marius's dying request and now, with Enjolras in a similar position, there was only one thought flitted through Eponine's mind:

_I should have been there._

"We believe that your companion will be fine," the nun told the duo breathlessly. "Though he will need to rest for several months. He will have incredibly limited mobility and should remain in bed at least until his leg heals."

Eponine let out a breath. Her lungs burned slightly from the sensation of not breathing but she could hardly feel it as relief flooded over her.

"How long will that take?" Eponine asked apprehensively. She may not have known Enjolras incredibly well but from her observations, she could tell he was not the sort of person who would revel in laying in bed for weeks on end.

"At least six weeks," the nun replied regretfully. "It is only by the grace of God that he lived. You should be thankful for this miracle."

"We are," Valjean assured the nun. "Thank you for all of your hard work, Sister."

"You may see him if you like, though he is not yet awake," she offered. "He was in incredible pain through the procedure and fell unconscious immediately when we were finished. Your medic did a fine job with the few resources he had. We merely perfected his surgery and ensured your friend's comfort," the nun elaborated. She moved to one side, allowing Eponine and Valjean to sweep past her.

Another nun stood, waiting for them, once they were inside the room.

"We moved your friend to this bed," the nun explained as she shuffled past the rows of beds. Finally, after what seemed like forever to Eponine, she stopped in front of a curtained bed. "You may stay as long as you like," she informed to Eponine and Valjean before moving to inspect her other patients.

Eponine took a deep breath for courage and pushed past the curtains.

The young rebel leader laid perfectly motionless on his bed. His usually young-looking face was drawn and pale from the blood loss, his soft lips already beginning to chap from the lack of moisture. The nuns had piled blankets on him to counteract the chill that was likely from his harrowing exploits but laid a cool compress on his head to combat potential fever. Though the summer was fast approaching, his current state left him in danger of illness.

The nuns had stripped Enjolras of his filthy clothes and attempted to wipe him down. Though his chest was bare, it was hard to tell, as it was covered in bloodstained gauze. His blonde curls were still matted, covered in sweat and dirt, contrasting sharply from how Eponine remembered him.

Despite his harrowing situation, Enjolras had a peaceful look on his face. It was almost as if he was happy to die or maim himself with the knowledge that his revolution was not the imminent failure that his professors and his parents warned him about.

She settled into a nearby chair and fixed her gaze on him. She could hear the muffled coughs and moans of the patients around him and it made her wince. She was familiar with the sounds of the sick as they died in the streets, but it wasn't a sound that one grew used to.

"Would you kindly watch over him, Mademoiselle Eponine?" Valjean asked. Eponine jumped slightly in her chair, unaware that the older gentleman was behind her. He had a flannel in his hand, likely given to him by the nuns, and was attempting to wipe his filthy face. The action was largely futile.

She turned around to look at him. "Where are you going, Monsieur Fauchelevent? I thought you said the revolt was over?"

"Someone has to inform Enjolras's friends about his condition. I'm afraid they feared the worst." Valjean paused and dragged his eyes down to where Enjolras was laying. "They've seen far more death than young men should."

Eponine shrugged her shoulders at this and turned back around to Enjolras. She heard the shuffle of Valjean's heels in the stone ground before all that was left was the sounds of the ill.

No doubt the revolutionaries hearts would be hardened by the events they saw that evening and the actions they were forced to take, but Eponine was sure that she saw more death than they ever could. It was unlikely that they had to watch people die of preventable causes, like starvation and a common cold turned pneumonia. She doubted that they stumbled across the mangled corpses of prostitutes in alleyways after a trick gone wrong or heard the cries of babies silenced by neglect.

Eponine shook the bitter thoughts from her head. Still, she had never had to kill anyone. She thought of Montparnasse, the bitter child who showed her kindness in his youth turned into a distorted version of himself.

She remembered the night of Montparnasse's first kill vividly. He was seventeen at the time and came to her with bloodstained hands and unshed tears in his eyes. His usual sardonic nature was abandoned as she wiped him clean of any trace of murder before he curled around her and pretended to sleep.

By the morning, he became a shell of what he was. Sarcasm and cruelty replaced the remaining shreds of kindness and the lives of others paled in comparison to his desperate need for wealth.

Eponine prayed that Les Amis would not suffer the same fate as her former friend.

She focused her eyes on Enjolras's chest, the rhythmic rise and fall reminding her that he was alive. Eponine unfastened the rosette she had found earlier that morning and placed it on the bed next to Enjolras. It seemed wrong that his insignia was no longer pinned proudly to his chest. She didn't think that she had ever seen him without one on his lapel.

Sighing, she settled further into her seat, preparing herself for a long night. She focused on his breathing to block out the sounds of the dying around her and in a vain attempt to clear her mind of her worries and the events of the last twenty-four hours.

* * *

A/N: So I know what you're thinking. "Wow, this chick has no idea about medical science."

And you are completely right. I majored in English and the last science course I took was in the tenth grade? Almost ten years ago? I don't even watch ER.

Still, I gave it a go and tried to make it believable so all you people striving for your MDs, I'm sorry if I made a mockery of your profession.

I'd like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who reviewed! I love having in depth conversations with you and I hope you get my replies. It means a lot to me.

Next chapter should be up Sunday or Monday? I haven't started it yet and it'll go in one of two ways. One I really want but I feel like you won't like and the other one you might like. I DON'T LIKE DECISIONS.


	12. Different Class

**A/N: So this chapter is massive and basically just about Cosette. It does have some information about what went on and is mainly there to show the passage of time. Hopefully I convert you all to Cosette fans with this.**

* * *

Cosette watched as her father ran about their small cottage, gathering supplies and anything that could help the revolutionaries.

The city was in a state of panic. It had been over twelve hours since the official fall of the National Guard in Paris. The Parisian police had largely disbanded, unwilling to face the citizens they've oppressed for generations.

The remaining members of the National Guard had made their way to Versailles in order to try and prevent another Louis XVI situation from happening. It seemed like the gesture would be futile, but Cosette supposed that the Guard had to do their duty.

There was a small, bitter part of her, one that she thought she abandoned years ago, that didn't care if the National Guard lived or died. She tried to suppress that feeling but Marius's face would pop into her mind and the startling realization that she would never see her beloved again would bring the thought forward. It was a vicious cycle and one that she was desperate to overcome.

Valjean deposited his wares at the door and turned back to where Cosette was sitting on the chaise. With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her and grasped one of her hands.

"I know that you are upset about your Marius, Cosette," he began carefully. Cosette braced herself for the inevitable. "But I wish for you to remain in this house. It is not safe out there right now."

Cosette sighed. She was upset about Marius for sure but the larger part of her just wanted to help, to be apart of something. Helping Eponine the night before gave her a sense of purpose that she had never felt before. The feeling that she was good for more than tidying the house and helping her father.

When Valjean had swept into the house a few hours prior, Cosette had almost had a panic attack. He looked awful, covered in filth and blood. He had told her quickly the events of the previous night, which had helped heal her breaking heart. The revolution was actually succeeding.

The losses for the National Guard were staggering, her father told her that it was partially due to the criminals of Paris working in unison to tear down the regime that kept them in chains.

Cosette couldn't fight the grin that crossed her face at that revelation.

Sure, it meant more work and deception for her but Montparnasse had come through for them.

Valjean rushed past her again and dropped first aid supplies on the floor.

"Please, Papa, when you get back can you take me to see Enjolras?" Cosette asked. Se couldn't help the begging tone that came through her words after spending years unable to go outside unless it was to church.

Valjean hesitated before giving a single nod. Cosette's separation from normal life had caused her to consider anyone she had a single shared conversation with a friend. It seemed unfair to keep her away from the two she gained that night, especially considering the loss of a potential husband.

"If it is safe, yes," he answered. Cosette's hopeful face broke in disappointment and Valjean regretted is answer.

He hesitated a moment before leaning over and placing a lingering kiss on Cosette's forehead. "I'll be back when the sun rises," he promised, giving her a reassuring smile.

Cosette nodded, trying to put on a brave face for her father. He gathered up his supplies and headed out the door.

When the door clicked shut, Cosette hesitated briefly before dashing to the drawing room. She peered out the window and watched her father walk proudly down the street. Guilt pulsed through her as she walked towards her room and removed her dressing gown.

She dug to the back of her rather bountiful closet and pulled out a modest black dress. She generally only wore it to the few funerals she had been to in her life and was likely a bit snug, but she wanted to blend into the night. She knew that she didn't have the skills Eponine had to stay in the shadows so she needed all the help she could get.

Usually Valjean would help Cosette with the intricate process of lacing up her dress, but as that wasn't an option, she struggled to do it herself. After several minutes of wrestling with the ties, she gave up. The dress was going to stay up and that was all that mattered. It wasn't of much importance whether her attempt was the most attractive or not. It's not like she had anyone to impress.

Tears began to well in Cosette's eyes as that thought brought about the memory of Marius. Part of her felt odd, spending this much time mourning a man she barely knew. The few letters she had received and their brief conversation was spent more on their feelings for one another than any specifics about his life.

Did he have any siblings? Where was he from? Aside from Eponine, did he have any friends?

They were petty questions but she was desperate to know. She wanted to know everything about him, every thought, every memory, every opinion.

It was unlikely to happen now.

Cosette pulled the letter that had been in her dress out and stared down at it in her hands. It was stained with blood on the outside, no doubt Marius's. In it laid Marius's last message to her. Though she longed to unfold it and find out his final words but couldn't bring herself to do it.

Once she opened that letter, it would truly be over. Dreams of her in white, seeing him down the aisle as her father walked with her arm in arm. A beautiful house, not too far from Rue Plumet, children with beautiful blonde hair and a face full of freckles. All those dreams would vanish like smoke if she unfurled his last letter.

A part deep in Cosette's mind taunted her: their already gone because he's already dead.

Cosette wiped at a the trails of tears that had unknowingly slipped down her cheeks before she went about tying a scarf over her blonde locks. As a final form of precaution, Cosette slipped a knife into her handbag, next to the money she owed Montparnasse. Her hand shook slightly at the thought of using it, but the horror stories that Valjean had told her over the years led her to be wary.

Leaving her room, Cosette shut the door firmly behind her. Valjean wouldn't be back tonight and her task would take her an hour or two at most, depending on how slow she had to move to avoid any consequences that came with wandering around a lawless Paris in the night.

She ducked out the front door and kept her eyes focused forward, looking for any sign of trouble. Though she was generally left with only her thoughts to occupy her, Cosette focused on the streets as if she was memorizing them. She was not going to allow herself to be caught off-guard by a criminal or kidnapper.

In actuality, she had very little to worry about. The peasants who she had given sous to, who she had smiled down at, were celebrating the future death of the king and the end of tyranny. Children were out of bed, still playing in the streets, unafraid of the police breaking up their fun and games over petty problems. A nearby bakery was laying in ruins as the people ransacked the food.

Despite that bit of property damage, the people seemed to be in better states than Cosette could ever imagine. They traded wares they stole off the bodies of the National Guard, telling fictional stories about how they aided in the revolution.

As such, Cosette was able to pass quite easily through the streets. Her modest dress did not tell of her wealth and the people were happy to ignore her to carry on their own celebrations.

It didn't take too long to get to the Jardin de Luxembourg. Unlike the streets, the garden was fairly deserted. As she made her way to the fountain where she had promised to meet Montparnasse, the only sounds she heard were the distant shouts of celebrations. If anything, it put her more on edge.

There wasn't a student around to save her. She didn't know where her father was. The police were disbanded and Eponine was with Enjolras. If the deal went wrong, she was alone.

It made her want to turn back.

There was a figure by the fountain, cloaked in darkness. It was clearly a rather tall man, a hat perched proudly on his head. He was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. There was no doubt that this man was Montparnasse.

Cosette glanced around the garden, looking for any signs of the rest of Montparnasse's job. A barrage of thoughts washed over her. What if this was all an elaborate scheme to take her hostage? After all, she had let it slip that her father was wealthy.

Her breathing started to increase as a panic set in, causing the dark figure to turn towards her. Cosette wanted to run but found herself unable to move as he approached her.

How could she have been so stupid? She should have just waited for Eponine and asked her to do the transaction. At least Eponine seemed to have a certain amount of control on Montparnasse's actions. Cosette had nothing.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Cosette," Montparnasse said smoothly as he picked up her hand, which was hanging limply at her side. He removed his hat with his free hand and brought it across his chest as he leaned down to place a kiss on her hand.

Montparnasse's kiss lasted a second longer than was customary, causing Cosette to shift slightly as a faint blush rose to her cheeks. She was not used to being in the company of men and her short time with Marius was spent with a gate between them.

"Bonjour," she managed to squeak out. At the tone of her voice, Montparnasse shot up and grinned at her. He was clearly amused by the fear he placed in her with a simple action.

Montparnasse towered intimidatingly over Cosette. He was about an inch taller than her father, making him over a foot taller than her.

He placed his hat under his arm and cocked a thick eyebrow at her. Coupled with his smirk, Montparnasse made the infuriating egotism charming, flustering Cosette even more.

There was a large part of her that felt overwhelmingly guilty that Montparnasse had such an affect on her demeanour just over twenty-four hours after Marius had been killed. However, she chalked it up to her few interactions with men over the years. Aside from priests and her father, Cosette had rarely had a moment alone with a man until she met Marius and that began less than a week ago.

"So, Mademoiselle Cosette, as much as I enjoy your company, I do believe we should discuss business," Montparnasse said firmly as he placed his hat back on his head. He held out an arm for Cosette.

She hesitated, still wary about Montparnasse's intentions and plans concerning her but she placed a shaking hand on his strong forearm anyway. He led her to a nearby bench and indicated for her to sit down. After glancing around herself quickly, she obeyed his silent order. Cosette kept her eyes glued forward, focused on the fountain.

Montparnasse sat beside her and began smoothing out seemingly-invisible wrinkles from his suit. "Now, Mademoiselle, I want you to know that what Eponine might have said to the contrary, I have no interest in hurting you," he informed her with a heavy sigh. "I could," he amended quickly. "But I won't."

Cosette turned to face Montparnasse and was startled at how close he was sitting to her. A lock of hair that escaped her scarf blew into her face as he exhaled heavily. Cosette gave him a weak smile.

"I wouldn't have come if I thought you would hurt me, Monsieur Montparnasse," Cosette lied, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand. She hated lying and rarely did it.

Montparnasse scoffed. "I doubt that, Cosette," Montparnasse said, dropping the honourarium. "Something tells me you would do just about anything you promised."

Cosette shrugged, bristling slightly at Montparnasse's switch into the informal. Part of her wondered if he was letting his guard down, switching from the formalities of the noble class to the more familiar working class slang that was present on the streets.

Despite Montparnasse's meticulous appearance and fine clothes, there were parts of him that made it clear that he did not have the formal etiquette training and education that many in the upper class received. He sat far too close, smirked too much and used improper grammar from time to time, mixing up minor conjugation and pronouns in the more complicated words he uttered.

Perhaps the lack of pretence would work in Cosette's favour. It certainly put her a little more at ease.

"It's only fair that I keep up my end of the bargain, since I heard you kept up yours," Cosette said, offering Montparnasse a small smile.

Montparnasse narrowed his eyes. "Who told you that? Was it Eponine?" He asked, wondering who from the barricade would tout the aid of criminals in their precious revolution.

"My father, actually," Cosette clarified. "He was there and told me what he knew before leaving to help the city."

Rolling his eyes, Montparnasse couldn't help but smirk. "This city's going to be a mess for the next few months at least. I doubt there's anything anyone can do to stop that. Even your papa," Montparnasse teased, nudging Cosette's knee with his own.

Cosette cleared her throat and suppressed any further flush from reaching her cheeks.

"My papa's a miracle worker, it may get done tonight," Cosette joked. Cosette pulled slightly away from Montparnasse so she could turn to look at him more easily. "If not, maybe you could get your… friends to help out."

Montparnasse let out a sharp laugh. "Hardly. I'll owe them for life with this one favour I asked them to do. It's easier to just rob bodies than to fight, you know."

Shifting uncomfortably, Cosette shrugged again, dropping her eyes. She focused instead on Montparnasse's ornate jacket. "No, that's not something I know," she countered softly.

Montparnasse rolled his eyes and placed a single finger under her chin to raise her eyes back to his. "I still did it, though. I helped when I could have just taken the rewards."

"Why?" Cosette couldn't help but ask. She was entirely too curious about this young man's reasoning. If he had no remorse about killing or robbing corpses, why would he take the much harder path towards his end goal.

"Eponine asked me," he replied with a shrug. Cosette's eyebrows furrowed slightly in question. "That girl's done me a lot of favours over the years and it was time I paid her back." Montparnasse paused and the grin returned to his face. "I would say that we're about even now."

"What kind of favours?" Cosette couldn't help but ask. Though she was frightened of the man who sat beside her, she was desperate to converse with someone. It took her mind off of the numerous worries she had running through her.

Montparnasse grin dropped and he shook his head disapprovingly. "I get into trouble from time to time," he said vaguely, unwilling to divulge anymore information to the curious blonde. She already knew enough about him as far as he was concerned.

Cosette was desperate to ask more but she could tell that the conversation was over. Montparnasse was clearly not a man that took well to being pressed beyond what he was willing to tell.

Montparnasse reached over and tucked a stray lock of her golden hair behind her ear, causing Cosette to freeze. The action was by far the most intimate gesture she had received from a man. Only her father had ever been so close to her. A blush spread across her cheeks again causing the smile to return to Montparnasse's face.

"Do you have my money?" He asked, the sugary-sweet tone to his voice masking the rather blunt question.

"Oh!" Cosette exclaimed as she pulled away from him and opened her handbag. "Of course!"

Montparnasse peered down into the contents of the purse and his smile grew sinister. "That's an awfully big knife for a girl," he commented as he reached forward and snatched the purse out of her hand. He pulled the knife out of her purse and raised an eyebrow. "Is this a kitchen knife?"

Cosette snatched her purse back, causing Montparnasse to raise his eyebrows in earnest shock. People didn't generally snatch things from his hands, at least not anymore. Perhaps her fear of him was waning.

"It's all I had," she snapped. "I didn't know what was going to be happening in the streets tonight, it's not like there are police officers."

Cosette dug into her purse and removed the stack of money that she had stashed there. She held it out to him and he took it greedily, putting the knife back into her purse without another word. He didn't count it, just looked down at it almost in reverence. Cosette had a pang of sympathy run through her. It wasn't that long ago that she would have the same reaction.

She cleared her throat, causing his green eyes to snap back to her. "I suppose I should be going. My father can't know that I left the house."

With that, she stood up and brushed invisible dirt off her dress. Montparnasse stood up as well and looked down at her for a moment before rolling his eyes and sighing. It seemed that the action was directed more at himself than at her.

"I'm going to walk you home," he said firmly, not willing to argue the point. "No one will try to hurt you if I'm there and your little kitchen knife is useless on these streets."

Cosette hesitated. She didn't really have an option.

"Okay," she said softly.

Montparnasse held an arm out to her and slowly, Cosette laced her hand through it.

Instead of taking her through the shadows like Eponine did, Montparnasse walked out in the open, not caring about any imminent danger. Cosette couldn't help but grasp more tightly to his bicep. Montparnasse may be frightening but he didn't seem keen to hurt her. The others that passed them on the streets were not as trustworthy.

"Are you going back out to help the revolutionaries?" Cosette asked as she looked up at Montparnasse.

Montparnasse's face twitched in a disbelieving way, one side of his mouth quirking upwards as he raised the opposite eyebrow. The sardonic action screwed up his handsome face and showed his considerable youth. His self-confidence and somewhat cocky personality was a tell-tale sign of his age but somehow, Cosette kept thinking he was much older than she was, though she was sure he was only two or three years older than her. Certainly younger than Marius or Enjolras.

"Unlikely," he replied shortly. "I have some work to tend to."

Cosette refrained from asking a follow up question. She didn't want to know what the criminal had planned for the evening if it wasn't rescuing the people of Paris.

"I'll likely go to bed first, however," Montparnasse continued, wary of Cosette's silence. The girl had barraged him with questions for the last hour. A part of him didn't want it to stop. "I haven't slept yet."

"Nor have I," Cosette echoed.

Montparnasse said nothing, choosing to glare at a man who let his eyes linger on Cosette for a fraction of a sentence. The criminal didn't need to say a word and the man ducked his head and turned a corner.

It didn't take long for them to reach her front door. Cosette pulled her arm free and smiled up at him. "Thank you for walking me home," she said sincerely.

Montparnasse began leaning towards her and Cosette's eyes widened. She stood still, wondering what the criminal had in mind before his soft lips made contact with her cheek. It was unlike the kiss he gave Eponine the night previous, far lighter and with a sense of sincerity.

He pulled back with a grin, though he was still standing far too close to be publicly acceptable.

"I think making you blush is my new favourite hobby," Montparnasse declared with a smirk. He reached around her and twisted the doorknob, swinging the door to her house wide open.

"I hope to see you _very_ soon," he drawled before taking a step back. He swept his hat off his head and bowed deeply. Montparnasse looked up at her from his stooped posture and gave her another cheeky grin before standing up straight and placing his hat back in position before turning on his heel and walking out the gate.

Cosette hurried inside and to the window. She peeled back the curtain slightly, just enough to tell her that Montparnasse was on his way. She let out a breath and trudged back to her room. She felt like she could sleep for years. The grief and adrenaline from the last twenty-four hours had worn her out.

She quickly peeled herself out of her modest dress and tossed it back into her closet. She generally took great care with her clothing, seeing every dress her father bought her as the most precious gift, but she couldn't bring herself to make the effort tonight. There were more important things to be worried about.

Sinking to her knees by the side of the bed, Cosette began the only ritual she could bring herself to keep. Though part of her was very angry with God for the loss of Marius and the state of his friends, she was grateful that at least any sacrifices weren't made in vain. Perhaps this is what He had chosen.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Cosette began to pray. "Heavenly Father, I would like to thank you for another day on earth," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I understand that there is a meaning towards everything and I hope I can accept the death of Marius but I need guidance. Please show me the way to true happiness and let me love again," she begged.

"Please watch over Papa and the revolutionaries. Keep Enjolras from succumbing to his wounds. He deserves to see the new France that he helped create," she continued. She paused for a moment. "And watch over Eponine. I know that she was cruel to me once but no one deserves the life she has been forced to live.

"And show Monsieur Montparnasse that there is more to life than possessions and money. Perhaps then he will see that a life of crime and sin is not the price to pay for luxury."

Cosette hesitated. "I know that Marius is in heaven with you, Lord. For that I should be grateful but I can't be. Not yet." Cosette shook her head and closed her eyes firmly. "May you please bless France and its citizens. Amen."

With that nightly ritual complete, Cosette climbed under her duvet and glanced over at Marius's letter that was sitting on the side table.

Picking it up, Cosette turned it in her hands a few times, trying to ignore the bloodstains. Perhaps now was the time to read it?

She stares at it. Her blue eyes don't waver from the somewhat-sloppy "Cosette" that's written on the front even as tears begin to spill. It's several minutes before Cosette is able to put it back on the bedside table and curl back into her bed.

Maybe another day.

* * *

**A/N: I channelled my 14 year old self for Cosette's constant blushing and stammers. Remember those days before you could have a normal interaction with a man? I'm still waiting to have one almost ten years later.**

**I channelled the guys that hit on me at the bar for Montparnasse. Although at least Montparnasse didn't clap off beat, which is better than I usually get. Why clap to More Than A Feeling? The drums do the work, just stop.**

**Hopefully they don't come off as too shippy? I don't know, it's just a killer mix of someone who I assume makes a lot of cash off flirting with rich women and a rich woman who has no ability to have a normal interaction and considers a single interaction as the beginnings of friendship.**

**Okay, so my number one issue is that I can't write Cosette mourning Marius and I should have thought of that before I killed him off/became attached to her as a character.**

**I mean… like, she didn't know anything about him. Why regret what cannot be and all of that. I can make her generally sad but it's not like she can miss his sense of humour because she didn't know it, or his stories, because he never told them, or really anything that isn't his face and penmanship.**

**Why yes, I am a massive cynic.**

**This chapter is four thousand words long. I am so so so so sorry. I don't know why that is.**

**Next chapter, Enjolras and Eponine take back the show with horrific illness and nursing. I hope to have it up either tomorrow or the next day. That was always the plan to soothe the fact that I wrote a chapter just of Cosette.**

**…**

**Yeah.**

**Also, I've never prayed because my family is all either secular or atheists and I don't think about that sort of thing so I hope I got it right because, yeah, 1830s France. Someone has to pray.**

**A final note: yesterday I came across a gif set on tumblr dedicated to this story and it totally made me shed a tear or two. It was a dream come true. So thank you, loveholic198 dot tumblr dot com for making my month!**

**And thanks to every single reviewer. That you take the time to tell me you're enjoying what I'm doing really helps me move this story along because I no longer have the need to second guess what I'm doing.**


	13. In the Midnight Hour

Wringing the excess water out of the flannel, Eponine walked back around to Enjolras and placed it on his forehead. She dabbed lightly around his face, trying to clean off the sweat that seemed to pour out of him due to an extreme fever that had plagued him for hours.

Not long after the nuns left Eponine alone with Enjolras, Eponine couldn't help but break down in tears. Looking at Enjolras, broken but alive, left her alone with her thoughts of Marius. The one man who treated her with nothing but respect and kindness was snatched from her. The man she loved.

Even if Marius had lived and married Cosette, have a dozen children and move into a palace, Eponine would have still been content with the turn of events. As long as there was someone good like Marius left in the world, Eponine had a chance.

She wasn't one to cry. Her father would never abide by the sounds of her sobs piercing through the thin walls of their home and the release wasn't worth the fight. Eponine was also not the type of person to show outward signs of weakness. Living in the streets taught her not to let down her guard, if even for a minute. Not every criminal had a soft spot for her like Montparnasse and most would use her tears to take advantage of her.

At some point in the night, Eponine had fallen asleep with her head resting on Enjolras's bed with thoughts of Marius plaguing her mind. She wondered if she could ever get over his death, if she would ever move on.

A few hours later, Enjolras began twisting in his bed, making Eponine jolt awake. Eponine's eyes widened considerably when she looked up at him. As bad as he looked when Valjean first brought him into the church.

Nightmares plagued the young revolutionary. He made desperate calls to Feuilly and Marius, apologizing for the deaths.

It broke something inside Eponine that he seemed to take the brunt of the responsibility. She knew Marius, possibly better than anybody. She knew that he would hate his friend taking responsibility for something that was his choice.

As Enjolras's fever raged on, he began to have muttered mangled conversations with Robespierre and Abbé Sieyès, quoting them at times but generally just thanking them. Sometimes he broke off into Latin or sometimes even into English, speaking to men Eponine knew nothing of, men of the names Jefferson and Cromwell. Her curious side was desperate to know what he was saying.

As frightening as it was to hear the muttered conversations, it was the chills that wracked Enjolras's body that truly worried her. She was far too familiar seeing bodies wracked in chills falling still in the middle of the night while no one cared.

Earlier in the day, a nun thrust an old dress that was from the charity box in her hand. Eponine tried to refuse the gift, her pride forbidding her to take charity even if it was from a nun. It was not until one had very firmly informed her that her blood and dirt matted dress would put Enjolras at danger of infection. If she was insistent that she be the one to take care of him then she was to keep to the basic laws of sanitation.

The dress was navy blue and far too big for her, slipping down her shoulder at any given moment. No matter how tightly she tried to lace it, it was of no use. One of the younger nuns, only a year or two older than Eponine herself, sheepishly told her that it was the smallest size the church currently had.

Eponine couldn't help but snort at that.

It was just another example of how blind the upper-class were in Paris. They may have been more than willing to throw their out-of-style clothes into a charity box in some semblance of alms but they wouldn't use their vast fortunes to create new dresses that the impoverished class could actually make use of.

Maybe paintings and cakes were more important than people to them.

Still, Eponine bent to the will of the nuns and changed. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for Enjolras getting an infection. His health was already precarious as it was, with his blood loss and high fever. It would not do well for her pride to cause more pain to the young revolutionary.

Every so often, the sound of a gunshot and people screaming broke the relative silence that was present in the church's sick bay. She feared that the sounds were ones of the National Guard fighting back or the bourgeois citizens of Paris revolting to save their precious lifestyles.

These incidents tended to be isolated and didn't last long but they still sent a chill down Eponine's spine.

Eponine was desperate for Enjolras to wake up quickly, if only to ensure him that his revolution paid off. As far as Eponine was concerned, there was no cause to feel guilty because he contributed to freeing the citizens of France. Surely that would help put his mind at ease and keep the nightmares at bay.

At least she hoped so. Eponine feared that Enjolras would feel responsible for the deaths that occurred not only at the central barricade but throughout the city. From what Marius had told her about Enjolras's strong sense of duty to the citizens of France, she was worried that he would even take responsibility for the dead members of the National Guard, even if they were more than willing to kill the students and working class without a moment's thought.

A part of her mind questioned why she cared about Enjolras's feelings. At what point in the night had he gone from Marius's outspoken friend to someone she might care about?

There was the startling fact that Enjolras was the first person to believe in her abilities. He really believed she was meant for something better than keeping watch for the police or aiding in a robbery. For someone like Enjolras, who could lead men to battle and free a city, to believe in Eponine Thenardier meant everything. A part of her feared that if he died, the miniscule amount of confidence she gained would be lost as well.

By nightfall, the nuns had attempted to make Eponine leave Enjolras's side, to go back to her home and allow them to watch over him. Eponine firmly refused, snapping at the nuns with such a tone that she was sure she just sealed her ticket to hell.

It wasn't that she didn't trust the nuns, as she knew they were far more experienced than her. It wasn't so much that she felt responsible for Enjolras's heath (though she was worried about him) or that she felt indebted to him. Though her heart broke for the young man, the real reason that she stayed glued to his side was simple: helping him was giving her a purpose.

Nursing Enjolras back to heath kept her mind off her grief and the shattered existence that waited for her in the streets. With the Revolution waning in Paris, Eponine knew what kind of life awaited her in the streets and it was a less than lucky one.

Taking care of Enjolras was empowering, knowing that it was her and her alone that was giving him some semblance of comfort through his pain. She truly felt that this is what she was meant to do.

As the hours past, his sweating subsided and his nightmares seemed to calm down. The doctor had told her that his fever had broken and that he would be well on the path to recovery by morning. To have a part in that helped heal Eponine's broken heart.

It was only a day ago that Eponine thought her dreams and future lay only in Marius but maybe there was another way out. A path towards freedom that she could carve for herself, using her own talents and intelligence.

If the monarchy was destroyed and democracy formed the future of France, maybe she could even broaden her education, rent an apartment, make herself a home.

Eponine's dreams may have shattered but in those shards laid a thousand possibilities she would have never dared utter until this day.

However, she couldn't dwell on those things when Enjolras still suffered. She had accepted a duty and she was going to see it through the end.

Eponine sighed as Enjolras began twisting in his bed again. He had already broken some of his stitches in the night, which Eponine hastily would patch up. She feared another round of the same.

At least this time he wasn't screaming.

Moving to sit on the edge of his bed, Eponine hushed him, running a hand through his still-matted curls. She remembered using the same technique whenever her sister Azelma would have nightmares when they were children. Since then, Azelma had seen more in real life than her nightmares could ever conjure, so Eponine was a little out of practice when it came to comforting people.

Despite her rusty calming skills, Enjolras calmed down the moment Eponine began combing her fingers through his hair but Eponine pressed on, trying to offer any comfort she can to soothe his feverish nightmares.

"You needn't fret, Monsieur Enjolras," she began in her most soothing voice. A smile appeared on her lips. "Although I expect you'd be cross with me if you heard me call you 'Monsieur' again."

She paused as she untangled parts of his hair as gently as she could. "I wish you weren't trapped in your nightmares, Enjolras. Monsieur Fauchelevant, although I suppose it's Monsieur Leblanc to you, told me that the revolution is succeeding. At least here in Paris.

"I wish you were awake to know that, though," Eponine added mournfully. She wondered how long it would take him to wake up.

From what Eponine knew, a fever was a death sentence. In the streets, people often died from fevers as high as Enjolras's. Of course, it was important to remember that they were already malnourished and lacked the energy to fight off illness, but it still worried Eponine.

She reached over to the bedside table and picked up the still-damp flannel. Eponine was wiping down Enjolras's face again when his eyelashes started to flutter. She braced herself for another round of nightmares, ready to soothe him back to sleep.

The nightmares never came. Instead, he cracked open his brilliant blue eyes and looked up at her. A crease appeared between his eyebrows, showing confusion. He twisted around before letting out a cry of pain.

Eponine put her hand firmly on his good shoulder. "Stop moving," she commanded quietly. She already felt bad enough that Enjolras's screams likely kept the other patients up all night but now he was going to hurt himself. "You're safe, I promise," she whispered, smiling at him in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

She stood up, moving herself off the edge of his bed and positioned the flannel on his forehead. "Are you thirsty?" She asked, earning a nod from Enjolras.

Eponine moved behind Enjolras to prop him up slightly, the best that she could without causing him any pain. His head was cradled between her chin and her shoulder, putting him on an angle to ensure he wouldn't choke on the liquid. Enjolras dirty hair left a smudge on her newly-cleaned face, but Eponine couldn't bring herself to care. Though she did his best to move him slowly, Enjolras still winced when she moved him, but he remained silent, too proud in his awakened state to show that he was injured.

Eponine wondered how he would react if he knew how she had been caring for him since they entered the church. Perhaps his pride would not get the better of him.

Tilting the water glass to his mouth, Enjolras took a few deep gulps before reaching up with and pulling the glass away from his mouth. Eponine set it on the bedside table before trying to move from beneath him.

It was a harder task than trying to prop him up and Enjolas let a groan escape when she lowered him back to the bed, something that she immediately apologized for.

Eponine moved about him, straightening the blankets and smoothing any wrinkles that appeared. When she looked back at his face, Enjolras was looking at her curiously, almost like he couldn't believe that she was taking care of him.

"You must rest, Enjolras," Eponine scolded, causing Enjolras's curious gaze to turn to a glare. Even in his weakened state, his blue eyes still held a fire in them that was unmatched.

"I must fight," he managed to force out.

"There is no more fighting tonight," Eponine assured him. "The revolution has left Paris and I don't think you can make it to Versailles in your condition," she scolded lightly as she placed her hand on his shoulder again, just to ensure that he didn't move.

Enjolras furrowed his sweat-drenched brow. "Versailles?"

"The Parisian end of your revolution is complete," Eponine said softly, smiling down at him. "Cosette's father told me that the fight has moved to Versailles as far as they knew at the time."

Enjolras remained silent but Eponine could tell that his mind was racing with the news of the revolution. A part of her regretted it. Enjolras needed his rest and no doubt he would be desperate for information now.

"It's late," Eponine interjected, causing his eyes to snap back to her. "I promise you, in the morning, I'll find out everything I can but you need to rest now. You're still incredibly ill."

Enjolras contemplated the compromise and nodded. In truth, he felt completely drained and weaker than he could remember feeling. Eager to overcome this, Enjolras decided to comply with Eponine's command.

He settled back into the hard hospital cot and felt the weight of his fever wash over him.

"Thank you for staying with me," Enjolras muttered. He manages to sound firm even on the edge of unconsciousness.

Eponine smiled slightly as his eyes droop. "Just doing my job."

* * *

**A/N: Wow, a lot of Eponine introspection? I seem to always do that with Eponine-centric chapters. Kid has a lot on her mind, I guess.**

**So this chapter was a bit of a downer and short-ish, what with Enjolras being SUPER SICK but next chapter, our favourite rag-tag bunch of revolutionaries make their triumphant return! And it's always good times with those guys. Sort of. Better times, anyway.**

**On another note, the last chapter marked the most ever reviews and the most ever single-day views for this story, which has made my entire life, to be honest. Especially to come on a chapter that I wasn't sure of. Now I feel a sense of freedom which is awesome because my school does NOT give that to me and that's really why I started writing this story. I felt my program zap any sense of creativity out of me that I was desperate to get back and by showing me that you like this story, I feel renewed and I'm so grateful to that because I was wallowing at the bottom of a bottle in dank clubs to have fun and now I'm not.**

**Mostly because I don't have any money but HEY!**

**We're also at 100 faves! This is so great, guys. It makes me want to shun my homework to serve you instead.**

**Glad you guys dig Cosette because she went from a cameo to a once in a while character to becoming a secondary character. I'M SORRY. I LIKE HER.**

**As far as the next update is concerned, I don't think I'll be able to do any real writing until the weekend. I have a hectic week ahead of me but next week I'm pretty free. I think I have a pretty good idea where the story's going for the next ten or so chapters, so there's that. Maybe Friday?**


	14. Tales of the Scorched Earth

Enjolras couldn't help but let out a sigh of frustration as Eponine draped yet another blanket over him.

"I told you, I feel fine," he managed to grit out, just barely holding back his frustration. His usually loud and clear speaking voice sounded rattled and ill, a shocking contrast to how Eponine remembered.

"And I told you," Eponine began as she smoothed out the wrinkles in the blanket. "That twenty-six hours ago, you were shot four times." Eponine moved around the bed and topped off his glass of water. "In those twenty-six hours, I have seen you shaken to your core with fever. I'm not about to let that happen again."

Enjolras gripped his left fist. The tendons in his right arm were aching painfully, though it was nothing compared with the searing pain in his shoulder. In truth, his entire body was in more pain than he could ever remember experiencing.

Until the fateful day at the barricade, the standard for his pain tolerance was after he was thrown from his horse at the age of twelve. He shattered an arm and broke his collarbone, the pain immediately making him black out. When he came to, tears began to spill down his cheeks until his father slapped his broken forearm and told him that men don't cry.

Even now, clueless about the state of the revolution and riddled with bullets, Enjolras held back any tears that threatened to come forth, though not due to the warnings of his father.

Enjolras was old enough to know that it was merely another lie his father told to him. He knew perfectly well that men did in fact cry and there was nothing unmasculine or shameful about that. From watching his friends, men he respected, cry over the loss of family members, a broken heart or merely too much alcohol clogging their systems, Enjolras was well aware that men had the freedom to cry.

Leaders, however, did not.

Even if Eponine was the only person in the church that he was aquatinted with, Enjolras still refused to show the extent of his bodily pain, not to mention the crushing guilt of each life that had followed him into the barricade but did not follow him out.

"Now, let's get you propped up for Les Amis. They'll be here soon," Eponine said with a smile as she reached for him. Enjolras twisted slightly, to avoid her help but winced as he pulled a particularly tender area.

"I don't want any help, thank you," Enjolras said firmly as he tried to shimmy his way into a semi-sitting position.

Eponine rolled her eyes and grabbed his left arm quickly, before he could pull away again. "Don't be stubborn, you'll only hurt yourself more."

Enjolras tried to pull out of her grip but only caused a sharp bout of pain to course through his more mangled side. He hissed against his will and hated himself for it.

Though being trapped away in a hospital was Enjolras's own personal version of hell, he was glad that Eponine was the one by his side. When he couldn't control his groans of pain, his eyes would immediately shoot to her face, looking for signs of pity or concern.

Thankfully, Eponine was not the type. Instead, her face remained neutral as she aided him. She may scold him lightly or help him complete his task, but she refused to pity him.

Enjolras found that trait to be a small mercy in his otherwise frustrating situation.

Together, they managed to get Enjolras into a sitting position. Though he was recovering from his feverish state, he was still incredibly weak. Far weaker than he was willing to admit. Even lifting an arm seemed like a chore. Enjolras was used to walking everywhere, carrying heavy books from one neighbourhood to the next with ease.

His blonde curls were still matted, though a nun had left a comb on his bedside table to remedy that. She had attempted to do it for him but had unfortunate timing. Had Enjolras been asleep, she would have had no trouble fixing his hair but as she waited until he was awake, she was met with a look of reproach and a sharp decline.

Eponine had gone out to find some information about the revolution at this point in the morning and thankfully stumbled across Combeferre, who assured her that he would bring some of Enjolras's friends to speak to him in person.

What Eponine was not expecting was how Enjolras's face fell after she relayed the information to him. She assumed he would be happy that his friends were paying him a visit but instead he just looked troubled.

Enjolras didn't want company in his broken state. He didn't want his friends to see him so beaten down and out of commission. He knew it was petty, that as his friends, they were almost duty bound not to pity him but there was still a part of him that felt shame for his current condition. Enjolras knew it was irrational but he couldn't fight the feeling.

It was only a few minutes after Eponine helped Enjolras sit up that several members of Les Amis de l'ABC walked through the heavy wooden door that separated the sick bay from the rest of the church. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were first, beaming brightly when they spotted Eponine and Enjolras. Joly came next and pulled Eponine into a friendly embrace before greeting Enjolras.

Grantaire shuffled in after his three friends. One hand was fisted in the leg of his brown trousers as he looked down at Enjolras and he swallowed heavily before offering a small smile.

"Looks like not even the best work of the National Guard can keep a good man down," Grantaire joked, though the usual sting of his barbs was lost. Instead, his tone was laced with fondness and admiration for his leader.

"Tell me about the revolution," Enjolras demanded quickly, unwilling to wait any longer for news of Paris's current state of affairs. "What happened after I was shot?"

Combeferre and Courfeyrac turned to smile at each other.

"Typical Enjolras. More concerned with the state of the nation than the fact he's laying broken in a bed!" Grantaire joked. A large smile was plastered on the man's face, more genuine than most had seen out of the drunk.

Combeferre nudged past Grantaire and sat on the edge of Enjolras's bed. "It's spreading, Enjolras!" Combeferre informed the revolutionary leader. "We know for a fact that each barricade around Paris succeeded. There were very few members of the National Guard left and those that remained have fled to Versailles to protect Louis-Phillippe."

Les Amis all grinned widely at the use of the King's Christian name. Soon, not even the most rigid monarchist could call it disrespectful as there would be no monarchy to disparage.

"It all seems rather futile," Courfeyrac added, almost too gleefully to be talking about something akin to a war. None of the Amis could blame his tone, however. They had been talking about revolution for at least a year, when the July Monarchy seemed to fail to change any aspect of France. If anything, the situation was only getting worse. To be able to free themselves of the shackles of monarchy scarcely felt like a dream to the students.

"What about the gunfire in the night?" Eponine couldn't resist asking. "Every so often, there would be a shot or two let off."

"Minor attempts at revolt, mostly," Combeferre answered with a shrug. "They never lasted long. It was mainly just well-off people scared for the well being of their homes."

Enjolras couldn't help the snort that escaped at that. He wasn't surprised, unfortunately, that the bourgeois Parisians would be more concerned about their material items than excited at the prospect of a new France.

"Most of the noise was the impoverished class celebrating the fall of the National Guard and the police," Courfeyrac elaborated.

Grantaire nodded enthusiastically. "I had a fantastic time, myself!"

Enjolras rolled his eyes at his drunken friend's remark but refused to comment on it. "Have you heard any news from the rest of the country?"

"Nothing concrete," Combeferre reported with a shrug. "There are rumours of revolts in Reims and Rouen, but most other cities are too far to have news yet. No doubt when our brothers in arms storm Versailles, we will see a steady wave of revolution throughout France."

"Many of the soldiers who joined us have left Paris to fight elsewhere," Courfeyrac added quickly. "At least those with the means to travel."

"And what of the criminals?" Enjolras couldn't help but ask. Eponine ducked her head down a little further as she busied herself straightening the objects on Enjolras's bedside table.

Combeferre shrugged. "Well, most of the corpses of the National Guard have been robbed, so perhaps they were just trying to procure new wares to sell on the black market?"

"The National Guard would have finer objects than we do," Joly pointed out. "After all, most of us are students. The allowances our families send us is often funnelled into books and wine."

Enjolras shook his head firmly. "But why would they not wait until the fighting is over? Why risk their lives to help us?"

"Perhaps they are tired of robbing people?" Courfeyrac offered, earning a snort from Eponine.

Enjolras turned his attention to his nurse. "Do you disagree with Courfeyrac's assessment, Eponine?"

Flushing, Eponine shrugged. "I mean, it's a possibility for some, but most of the robbers I know are content in their work."

"And do you know many robbers?" Combeferre asked.

"More than one could imagine, I'm sure. It's the way of the streets, really. Either you get a job or you don't and if you can't, you have to get money somehow," Eponine explained hastily.

Enjolras pondered her unsophisticated answer for a moment before nodding. "In any case, we should be grateful they were on our side instead of the National Guard's."

"Don't you fear that their participation could harm the integrity of the movement?" Combefrerre asked.

"Not particularly," Enjolras responded. "Though many of the upper-class may assume that the revolution is tainted by the aid of thieves, they will consider us criminals as well. After all, in their eyes, we are traitors to the crown and treason is worse than stealing a loaf of bread or an apple."

"Many of those criminals have stolen far more than a loaf of bread, Enjolras," Courfeyrac pointed out.

"Yes, but aren't they victims as much as any other citizen? They may have taken a wrong turn but we will offer a second chance in the Republic," Enjolras declared firmly.

Courfeyrac considered this point for a moment. "Well, we could move the opinion in our favour," Courfeyrac said slowly. "After all, is history not written by the victors?"

"We don't want to lie to our decedents," Combeferre countered sternly, turning to his friend. "The misrepresentation of history is as responsible for our current situation as the monarchy and class divides."

"Is it a lie to say desperate men are driven to desperate situations when they are left without options?" Courfeyrac asked the philosopher, who merely shrugged in response.

"This is a discussion for another day, I think," Joly said as he nodded over to Enjolras in a way that was meant to be subtle but simply made his leader glare viciously at him.

Enjolras tried to shift himself so he could sit taller and suppressed any sign of pain that the movement brought him. "I am fully capable of having this discussion now, Joly," he said firmly. Despite his proclamation, Enjolras felt himself grow weaker as the conversation with his friends dragged on. Sweat began to prick around his hairline as his temperature began to increase.

He glanced over at Eponine without really thinking of the action. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern as she observed him.

"Perhaps Joly is right, Enjolras," Combeferre said softly. "Your body has been through more trauma than most could handle."

Enjolras nodded, wincing slightly at the pain in his shoulders. "Yes, what did exactly happen to me?"

"You were shot, my friend," Joly informed his leader as he inspected the bandages on Enjolras's exposed chest. "Twice in the chest, once in your shoulder and once in your left thigh. It's a miracle you're even alive."

Enjolras remained silent, though his eyes did widen a fraction at the description of his wounds.

"The nuns said nothing vital was hit, though," Eponine hastened to add.

Grantaire laughed sharply. "See, Joly? Your bedside manner is atrocious, you could use a lesson or two from Eponine here," Grantaire stated drily as he flopped into the chair that Eponine vacated.

Joly rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Eponine. "How was he in the night?"

Eponine glanced down at Enjolras, who had rolled his eyes up to stare at the celling. Discussing his condition would only elaborate what he saw as a weakness and he was less than eager for Eponine to relay that information to his friends.

"He was pretty bad for a while," Eponine admitted. "He had a really high fever for most of yesterday and well into the night."

Joly grimaced slightly. "Fever?" He asked warily, looking down at Enjolras. His usually cherry face contorted into a look of grave concern as he took a small step away from Enjolras's bed. The rest of Les Amis, excluding Enjolras, burst into laughter.

Eponine glanced at the future doctor questioningly. "Are you okay?" She asked, causing another round of laughter.

"Joly, despite his chosen career path as a doctor, is a massive hypochondriac," Grantaire explained before dissolving into another fit of laughter.

"Don't worry, Joly, his fever likely came from his wounds. It's not contagious," Combeferre explained before a smirk graced his face. "Probably."

Even Enjolras couldn't suppress a small smile at Combeferre's light teasing. There was a point that Enjolras assumed his friends would never smile or laugh or tease each other again. That the time for joy and lightness would come to an end as they met with their foes at the barricade.

"Well, wounds aside, are any of you aware how I got here?" Enjolras asked, turning his attention to Eponine. After all, the girl had stayed with him through the night, so surely she would know the answer.

Eponine shifted slightly. "Cosette's father brought you here. I saw him as he was carrying your body through the streets and thought he was a grave robber," Eponine admitted, not meeting Enjolras's eyes. "I saw him after I left Cosette's house."

"Yes, we heard of your exploits with Marius's beloved," Courfeyrac said with a small smirk. "Well done on your recruitment efforts, Mademoiselle."

"Though you went completely against your orders," Enjolras said firmly, his eyes narrowing at her. "You promised me you'd stay at the cottage."

"And if she had, we'd all be dead," Coufeyrac interjected.

Enjolras opened his mouth to reply when a rallying call of "Vive la France" was heard from outside the window. Enjolras twisted excitedly before letting out a yell in pain.

"Stay still!" Eponine implored him, moving to inspect the wound he jarred. "It's a miracle you're alive, you wouldn't want Monsieur **Fauchelevent** hard work to go to waste."

Enjolras furrowed his brow. "Who is Monsieur **Fauchelevent**?" He inquired.

"That's Cosette's father's real name," Eponine explained as she peeled back the bandage. Enjolras had pulled one of his stitches in his excitement of the rapidly growing revolution. "He wanted to protect Cosette if he were to be captured and held for treason."

Enjolras took a moment to absorb this new information before nodding. "He is a very wise man. Had the National Guard prevailed, it is unlikely that they would have been easy on us."

The weakness that Enjolras felt prior to Les Amis coming to visit him was nothing compared to now. Though they had only been with him a short time, their conversation had taken a lot out of him. He began to shiver slightly, causing Eponine to furrow her brows. Combeferre reached over and felt his forehead, earning a stern glare from Enjolras.

"I believe that his fever is growing again, we should let Enjolras rest," Combeferre declared as he turned to look at the other Amis.

Enjolras frowned. "I'm fine," he stated, feeling nothing of the sort.

"You are not," Combeferre countered as he squeezed Enjolras's good shoulder. "But we have no doubt you'll be back to your usual self before long."

Les Amis bid both Eponine and Enjolras a quick goodbye, issuing the promise that they would be back with more news of the revolution the next day before filing out. Grantaire lingered behind, his eyes glued to Enjolras's wounds. It was Combeferre who finally tugged the drunk by the elbow.

Enjolras looked up at Eponine as she placed a flannel on his forehead. "You don't need to stay with me."

Scoffing, Eponine poured herself a glass of water and sat in the chair that Grantaire had been sitting in. "And leave the nuns to deal with you? No thank you, I'd like a fighting chance to get into heaven."

"I'll be fine on my own," Enjolras assured her with a frown. "I don't want to keep you from your life."

Eponine sighed and squirmed slightly in her chair. "I think I'd prefer to stay here," Eponine assured him vaguely.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Enjolras looked over at the gamine who had taken up residence next to him. He really couldn't understand why she felt such a responsibility towards his health. They were barely friends, having just grown slightly closer during the events of the revolution.

Enjolras reminded himself that he knew very little about her life. Next to nothing, really. He knew that she believed herself to be in love with Marius, though the man was now dead and thus lost to her forever. He knew that she lived in impoverished conditions. He knew that she was likely malnourished from said conditions.

Perhaps the church that they had taken residence in offered her some semblance of comfort in uncertain times. Enjolras couldn't bring himself to take that from her.

"Fine," he relented. "I will accept your help."

Eponine gave him a wide smile, though the joy didn't reach her eyes. Grief and years of hard living still pooled itself within the dark depths.

Enjolras wondered if any revolution could erase the years of pain from those he wanted so desperately to aid.

* * *

**A/N: So I'm not sure about this chapter. I wrote a lot of it through the week when I was super stressed and wrote the rest of it over the weekend. It's a lot of explanation.**

**I so wanted to have this chapter up before today but it's been a rough week. I was super busy and then this teacher I have slaughtered something I worked so hard on so I felt pretty worthless for a few days which didn't help me writing this story. I also had company over.**

**However! I get more time to write this week, which is awesome. I can write to my heart's content. I might even do some one shots. I have an A/U in the works with Grantaire, Courfeyrac and Enjolras arguing over their genres of choice in 1978. You guys might dig that. Or maybe I'm the only one that will but you gotta do what you love, right?**

**Sorry again for the wait. Let's hope that doesn't happen again. Thank you for your continuing support and reassurance. It means a lot to me.**


	15. Right Here, Right Now

Eponine coughed loudly as Sister Marianne poured another bucket of water over her head. The soap cascading down her face burned her eyes.

"If you want to aid the sick, you have to be clean," Sister Marianne said without sympathy as she passed Eponine the bar of Savon de Marseilles.

Eponine's brown eyes looked helpless as she looked down at the cream coloured bar in her hand. She had already scrubbed herself clean, did she really need a repeat?

"When was the last time you even washed?" The nun asked as she pulled out a bottle of shampoo and began to scrub Eponine's hair a third time. The bath water was filthy, almost completely opaque with the combination of soap residue and the filth that covered Eponine's body.

Eponine's face turned scarlet and she refused to answer.

Truthfully, it had been more than a month since Eponine had the luxury of a bath and even then she had to share it with Azelma. Before that, Eponine couldn't recall her last washing, if she was to be honest.

Sister Marianne pulled a wooden comb through Eponine's hair, making the younger woman wince as the nun tried to work out the knots.

"Come now," Sister Marianne scolded. "Your… friend did not complain nearly so much and he's injured."

Eponine glared at the bubbles in the water because she did not dare shoot such a look at the stern nun. She hated how the nuns and the doctor always paused before calling Enjolras her friend. It was not that Eponine thought she and Enjolras were confidants in the strictest manner, but she hated the implication behind their tones. As if something uncouth was occurring between the revolutionary leader and the gamaine.

It had taken a lot of persuasion for the nuns to allow Eponine to stay. Though Eponine gave her word that she just wanted to help Enjolras, it was her state that truly convinced the nuns to allow her to remain at Enjolras's bedside. Their vows had made them promise to aid the impoverished and the sick. Though Eponine was not strictly ill, her gaunt face and filthy appearance spoke volumes about her life on the Parisian streets.

Sister Marianne poured another bucket of water over Eponine's head, but this time, Eponine prepared herself. She closed her eyes tightly and brought her hands to cover her face as the lukewarm water cascaded over her. Though Sister Marianne made the task something of a chore, Eponine did have to admit that she felt much better after the bath. Though she knew that her skin did not have the softness that Cosette and other women of wealth possessed, it was still a relief to get the dried mud and stale sweat off her body.

The nun left the washing room, allowing Eponine to preserve what little modesty she had left as she dried herself off. The room wasn't big or particularly impressive, simply a small stone-walled area with a basin on one side and a looking glass on the other.

Eponine wrapped the linen towels around herself and cautiously creeped over to the looking glass. Mirrors were far too expensive and valuable for someone of Eponine's extreme poverty to posses them. Eponine couldn't even recall the last time her family owned one, her father having pawned the ones from the inn when they moved to Paris.

Eponine dragged her eyes up to the mirror, almost fearfully, and let out a sigh when she saw her reflection.

She looked like a drowned rat. Her soggy hair hung limply around her face and even the thick towels couldn't mask her gaunt physique. Her skin was rough from neglect and even she found it painful to look at her protruding bones.

She tried not to feel too much pity for herself. After all, it was lucky that she clung on to the last remnants of beauty that she had possessed as a child, though they were fading quickly. There was no doubt that not even with the kindest of care that she would never measure up to the radiance of Cosette, but at least Eponine had the majority of her teeth and a few new dresses. It was more than most grisettes could say.

Eponine turned away from the looking glass and went about drying her body. There was nothing special about her appearance and noting worth staring at for too long.

Besides, she shouldn't get so used to being clean. Once Enjolras was able to go back to his apartment, that was it for Eponine. She would be back on the streets, or worse, with her parents.

Eponine turned to look at the basin she had emerged from and immediately wished she hadn't. Her face burned as she looked down at the water. It was almost as dark as her hair. No doubt it would take a hefty scrubbing to make the copper gleam as it had before she submerged herself.

She was ashamed, but that was nothing new.

There was a time she was as carefree as Gavroche, when she revelled in her lifestyle as a gamine. When she and Azelma and Montparnasse would roam the streets of Paris, causing havoc. Their laughter would bounce through the alleys as they terrorised the streets in the manner that only children can and Eponine thought that she was happy.

Eponine knew better now.

She hastily pulled on her new dress, another piece of charity from the nuns. This dress was even bigger than the last, but Eponine was in no position to complain. The rich green fabric was clearly expensive and the dress was the finest thing Eponine had put on in almost a decade.

Sister Marianne burst in without warning and fastened the ties in the back of the dress. She huffed as she tried to pull the strings as tightly as they would go.

The dress still sagged in the stomach and Eponine had to mind the shoulders, lest the dress completely slip down.

"Oh well, it will have to do," Sister Marianne said as she pushed a comb into Eponine's hair. It took several minutes of tugging before Sister Marianne could twist it into a pony tale, tying it back with a blue ribbon.

"Your… friend is starting to get restless again," the nun informed her, causing Eponine's shoulders to sag.

"Of course he is," Eponine muttered as she stepped past Sister Marianne and walked towards Enjolras's bed.

The young revolutionary had finally fought off the impending infection that had plagued him the last few days. He was still bogged down by exhaustion, both from his few days of fever and the months of sleepless nights that he put into planning the revolution. Enjolras had even apologized to Eponine one morning after having slept for over sixteen hours. It almost seemed involuntary, as if he was shocked he had slept that long.

Though he was getting better, Enjolras was quickly growing restless in the hours when he was awake. He snapped at every one unfortunate enough to be in his presence during these bouts of frustration, even the more elderly nuns.

Luckily for Enjolras's knuckles, the elderly nuns of Église Saint-Séverin were used to the impotence of students, having resided in their company for decades. However, after Sister Marion pulled Eponine aside and warned her of the growing wariness the congregation had towards Enjolras, Eponine realized that she should probably find something for him to do.

Eponine sat in her usual wooden chair, capturing Enjolras's attention.

"Your dress is too big," he pointed out, causing Eponine to roll her eyes.

"I'm well aware at the state of my dress, Enjolras," Eponine said exasperatedly.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow but said no more. He turned the well worn bible over in his hands. "I think I've read this particular book enough in my life," he said before setting it on the edge of his bed.

"You should be resting," Eponine said as she picked up the bible and turned it over in her hands. She opened it to a random page, only to be assaulted with a completely different set of letters than she was used to.

Enjolras seemed to note her confusion. "It's in Latin," he explained shortly.

Eponine narrowed her eyes. "I could have figured that out," she muttered before placing the heavy book on the bedside table.

Enjolras made a little hum under his breath, which only cause a flare of anger to rise in Eponine.

"I've been resting since I got here. What I really need is to get out into the streets," Enjolras said, ignoring her glare as he tried to shift himself into a higher sitting position. His face went blank, which Eponine had deducted over the last few days was his way of masking his pain.

"The nuns said you can go back to your apartment in a few days as long as you have someone with you," Eponine repeated for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

Enjolras shook his head in exasperation, his newly clean hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it back with his uninjured arm impatiently. "Yes, I know."

Eponine fiddled with a section of her dress. "Well, I'm meeting Courfeyrac at your apartment soon. I'll be able to get you something to do. Is there anything in particular you want?"

It was three days after the National Guard fled Paris to protect the King, the Queen and their friends of noble status, Eponine was finally able to venture away from the church and away from Enjolras's bedside.

"Books, I suppose," Enjolras responded. "And my notebooks. Courfeyrac will know which ones."

"Any specific books?"

"Ones that aren't concerning religion, preferably," Enjolras responded. He paused as he suppressed a yawn, covering is mouth with the crook of his elbow. "I think I've had enough of that."

Eponine nodded and stood up, brushing off her dress. "I'll leave you to rest. I'll be back soon," Eponine informed him. She suppressed the desire to straighten his blankets before she left.

Eponine didn't blame Enjolras for his frustration concerning his wounds. After all, the revolution could be attributed to him and he hated not being in what he called the "field", grooming the people of Paris for their up-coming equality.

"We cannot allow another Reign of Terror, Eponine," Enjolras had struggled to tell her as his fever raged on shortly after Les Amis had left the church three days prior. "We need to ensure that the people understand that we all have to trust each other or this will never work."

"What will never work?" Eponine had asked as she pressed a cool cloth into his forehead. A part of her knew that she shouldn't have encouraged Enjolras's ramblings, but his passion for France was better than screaming for dead friends in his nightmares.

He had stuttered for a moment, barely able to answer her through his chattering teeth. "Equality."

Every day, one of the Amis would visit with news from what was happening around Paris and what little they knew of the rest of France.

Two days after Enjolras's declaration, news broke out in Paris that the National Guard had been defeated and the King had been captured. The Battle of Versailles was a bloody and quick one, many of the noble friends of Louis Phillippe having been slain or captured immediately by the revolutionaries. King Louis Phillippe I, his wife, Queen Maria Amalia, and their ten children were currently in custody at the Palais-Royal, their chosen home in Paris.

Enjolras was worried about the actions the people would insist on for the monarchs. He wasn't worried about the fate of Louis-Phillippe or Maria Amalia, but how the citizens of France would treat their children was a cause of concern for Enjolras. The King and Queen's youngest child was not even eight years old and the oldest still was a few months younger than Enjolras himself.

Eponine didn't fault Enjolras for his wariness. In another life, it could have been Gavroche whose life was sacrificed because of politics and war. Though Enjolras held admiration for the first French Revolution, he did not want the people to spiral out of control in the same manner they had those few short decades prior.

Eponine was wary as she took those tentative few steps out side of the church.

Shock coursed through Eponine as she looked down Rue Saint-Séverin. Even the small side street showed the beginnings of a new Paris.

As Eponine ventured further away from Église Saint-Séverin, she started to see the change that Les Amis de l'ABC worked so hard for. Banners were hung from windows, declaring "Vive la France!" and "Vive General Lemarque!" Merchants still had their shops boarded up, a vain protection from possible looting.

The biggest change was the people. Since the success of the revolution, Paris had seen an explosion of Republican support. Though the bourgeois residents were still firmly monarchists, the so-called Third Estate had come out in their droves to pledge their support to the cause. Rosettes were pinned to chests of men and women of all ages and scarlett flags spilled from open windows around the city.

"Eponine!" A voice called from down the street. Eponine was so caught up in her shock that she jolted around.

Courfeyrac was approaching her from across the street, waving wildly.

Eponine knew Courfeyrac slightly more than the other members of Les Amis. They rarely spoke, but the man was incredibly close friends with Marius, meaning that Eponine watched him closer than the others.

Even she was amused by the man's personality and charmed by Marius's stories of Courfeyrac's adventures and conquests. She was glad that it was Courfeyrac who agreed to meet her, as opposed to one of Enjolras's other friends.

"I was calling you, didn't you hear?" He asked, a broad smile crossing his face. Eponine noted that the usual glee that was present in Courfeyrac's face was absent, leaving the expression somewhat hollow.

Eponine shook her head, her pony tale whipping her in the face with the force of the action. "It's been a while since I've been outside. It isn't exactly like I remember it."

"Isn't it great?" Courfeyrac asked as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I can't wait until Enjolras can see it for himself! He deserves to see his dream come to fruition."

"He does," Eponine agreed, although she was still distracted by this new Paris that laid before her.

Not much had changed, aside from the new aesthetics, but the sight was dazzling none the less. To know that she had some part in the creation caused an unfamiliar emotion to swell in her chest. It was almost like pride, though not directed solely at herself. It was a pride in her city that Eponine couldn't ever remember feeling before.

Suddenly Enjolras's passion for France was starting to make sense to her.

Courfeyrac laughed slightly at the awe on Eponine's face and tugged her wrist. "Come on, I can only imagine how much of a pain Enjolras is being without something to do."

"He is getting annoying," Eponine admitted with a small smile. "I feel bad leaving him with the nuns."

"Ah, yes. You must remember, Mademoiselle Eponine, that the nuns have God on their side. When it comes to Enjolras, sometimes the rest of us need all the help we can get," he joked as he led her down the weaving streets of Paris.

As they walked, Eponine tried to keep her eyes sharp for her family or the Patron-Minette but found herself still entranced with the city she thought she knew.

Eponine noted that there was still a heavy population of impoverished citizens lining the streets. A shocking change were the rosettes pinned to their chests and the hopeful gleam in their eyes.

"What about the police, Monsieur?" Eponine asked as they continued to walk side by side.

Courfeyrac shrugged. "They're coming back slowly. Their general goal seems to be to interrupt the small bouts of celebration that pop up among the citizens every once in a while."

Eponine furrowed her brows. "And that's all they're tasked with?"

"Esentially. Riot control and robberies are pretty much all that they can do at the moment," Courfeyrac explained. "They sneer at us and make crude comments, but with the King in chains, treason's no longer a crime and even if it were, it would be impossible to arrest every Republican in Paris."

"And if they try?" Eponine couldn't help but ask.

"Well, we'll have another revolution, of course!" Courfeyrac answered cheerfully.

The two lapsed into silence when Courfeyrac indicated a small building just off of Rue Saint-Germain. It was modest, though finer than the ones that lined Saint-Michel. Young men holding books in one arm and young women on the other bustled around, beaming and talking loudly of the future.

Courfeyrac led her into the building and up a flight of stairs. "I live the floor above Enjolras," he informed her as he dug a key out of the pocket of his waistcoat. "And Jehan lives below."

Courfeyrac slipped the key into the lock and opened the door, motioning for Eponine to lead the way.

When she stepped into his apartment, Eponine's eyes widened marginally. It was nothing that she was expecting.

Eponine had assumed, perhaps without merit, that Enjolras would be an incredibly tidy individual. The type who would have a specific place for everything. As she looked around his living room, nothing could be further from the truth.

There were books and papers strewn everywhere. There was only one clear part of his couch, the spot he seemed to generally sit in. Maps covered his coffee table and rather pathetically small dining table.

Eponine took a few hesitant steps further into his apartment and glanced back at Courfeyrac.

"I know," Courfeyrac said sagely before walking past Eponine to get further into the apartment. He closed the door behind him. "Enjolras needs a maid."

"I never would have guessed that he would be this unorganized," Eponine commented.

Courfeyrac shrugged. "He's been planning a revolution and, though he says otherwise, the man barely slept for the last few months as the time approached. It's not that surprising."

Eponine conceeded that point. Enjolras had been an incredibly busy man from what she observed the times she had gone to the Cafe Musain with Marius. Studying his textbooks one minute, researching the state of democracy in other countries in another and delivering rousing speeches at the drop of the hat.

No wonder he had no time to clean up.

The only tidy room was the kitchen, which, though strewn with coffee cups, indicated that Enjolras didn't spend a lot of his time cooking.

It felt a little odd to be in Enjolras's apartment, especially without him there. Though she had his permission, it was clear that Enjolras was a deeply private man.

However, there was a larger part of her that was desperate the snoop around his belongings and find out a little more about her present "roommate."

Other than his mutterings during his nightmares, Eponine knew next to nothing about Enjolras. She didn't know of his family or his past. She didn't even know of the less intimate details, like his chosen focus in university or favourite drink. It was infuriating.

She clasped her hands in front of her to suppress her desire to rifle through his things and turned to Courfeyrac. "He said he didn't want any books about religion."

Courfeyrac nodded. "A secular selection. Got it. Why don't you go gather him some clothes?"

Eponine's eyes widened considerably. "Is that proper?" She asked. It didn't seem proper, but that was hardly something she would know about anymore.

"Not particularly, but Enjolras has no use for propriety anyway. Besides, I'm sure you've been privy to a bit more of Enjolras than the rest of us," Courfeyrac said with a wink before turning towards one of the bookshelves.

Eponine flushed. Courfeyrac was mistaking in his assumption that Eponine had seen more of Enjolras than was strictly necessary. The nuns and doctors refused to let Eponine be present for tasks like changing his bandages or inspecting his wounds. The closest to a state of undress that Eponine had seen Enjolras in was his borrowed sleeping shirt.

Still, she wasn't going to risk this opportunity to snoop in his bedroom.

"You know," Courfeyrac began as he pulled out random books to inspect their worth. "We could never have done this without you and the girl you went on that mission with."

"Cosette," Eponine supplied quickly, surprising herself. "And I doubt very much that we had that big of an influence on your revolution."

Courfeyrac pushed the book back into the shelf roughly and turned around. His usual smile was dropped in favour of brows that were furrowed in confusion. "You really think that little of your efforts? The only reason we won that night was because of the people you convinced to come, the people of your class."

Eponine shook her head slightly. "You might have won otherwise."

"No," Courfeyrac said bluntly as he took a step closer to Eponine. "We wouldn't have."

He sighed and moved closer to Eponine. She looked up at him, confused about his blooming aggravation. He wasn't the type to get upset quickly, though the loss of Marius was weighing heavily on his mind, causing him to snap at people uncharacteristically.

"Nobody likes to be fought for, Eponine. Not by people who don't truly understand them, although we try with all our might. But to know that they can fight for themselves? That their sons and daughters are willing to risk what little they have for a cause that may or may not have the intended results? That means something more than any speech could. Even with Enjolras's impressive rhetorical skills," Courfeyrac explained with a smile. "At least that's what Combeferre said.

"Now go pick out some clothes for Enjolras. I'm particularly fond of his purple jacket," Courfeyrac said before turning back to the shelf.

Eponine was shaken by Courfeyrac's words, her knees slightly weak as she moved towards the bedroom. All of her mixed feelings on invading Enjolras's most personal space had disappeared as she processed Courfeyrac's speech.

Did she really deserve that much credit for the revolution? Would it have prevailed if she and Cosette didn't take the risk of trying to recruit on their own?

Eponine felt her heart rate increase. She was so close to be willing to throw her life away to be with Marius and there was no doubt that she would have died. If she hadn't gathered more people, then these young men she was becoming aquatinted with would have died, if Courfeyrac's assertions were to be believed. Enjolras would have been killed, whether by bullets or the guillotine. Joly would have never practised medicine. Courfeyrac would have never joked. Gavroche may have even been caught in the crossfire.

_Maybe,_ Eponine thought, _I have something to offer_.

She tried to shake off her thoughts as she went to work on her task. There was a messenger bag, no doubt how Enjolras carried his books around his campus, sitting on the floor of the room. She quickly emptied it of the empty ink pots and scraps of paper, so she could use it for his clothes.

Eponine took the opportunity to glance around his room. There was nothing particularly special about it. He had a double bed that was dressed in mismatched shades of red. Eponine snorted at that. No doubt Enjolras found the message to be more important that then aesthetics. His bedroom was slightly neater than his living room, though there were shirts littering the ground and piles of papers covering the desk.

She made her way over to the wardrobe and flung open the doors to be greeted with lines of neatly hung jackets and pants. It was a sharp contrast from the rest of his apartment.

She rifled through the jackets, picking a purple and a red coat for him to choose from, along with a pair of black slacks. She fought back a blush as she stuffed some underclothes in the bag. It was nothing that she had never seen before, but she couldn't contain the uncomfortable feeling she felt from going through Enjolras's private drawer.

Next she picked matching waistcoats for him to wear. She hesitated for a moment as she flipped past a rather gaudy floral piece that didn't seem to match anything in his wardrobe, but decided better of it. No need to make Enjolras more aggravated than he already was.

"All done?" Courfeyrac called from the other room.

Eponine grabbed the messenger bag and made her way back to the living room, where Courfeyrac was holding three books and two notebooks. He handed them to her so she could add them to the bag.

Without asking, Courfeyrac grabbed the bag from her and threw it over his own shoulder before indicating towards the door. For the second time, Eponine was shocked at Courfeyrac. No one ever insisted on carrying a bag for Eponine.

Courfeyrac walked Eponine most of the way back to the church and the two made small talk about small things like the weather or pastries, avoiding the larger topic of Marius.

"I'll leave you here," Courfeyrac said a few blocks from the church as he handed Eponine the bag.

Courfeyrac hesitated for a moment. "Has Gavroche been to the church yet?"

Eponine's smile droped at the question. "No. He's alright, isn't he?" Eponine had seen Courfeyrac's interactions with her brother over the last several months. It was clear that the older man had taken Gavroche on as a sort of younger brother.

"He's fine, I saw him a day or so ago," Courfeyrac hastened to reassure her. "I just wanted to know if he stopped by. Well, I'm going to the cafe, so I'll see you in a few days when we come to get Enjolras."

Eponine nodded and managed a wave before continuing on her way.

Eponine tried not to think about her brother. Thinking about her brother meant thinking about the barricade, and that led to thoughts about Marius. Eponine wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

Still, she did worry about Gavroche. She chewed her bottom lip as she walked towards the church.

She knew that Gavroche could take care of himself. He had been doing it since before he could even talk.

Eponine smiled slightly at one of the nuns who passed her. She was a rather sweet, young nun by the name of Sister Marie who Eponine had taken a liking to. She was a lovely person and quick to joke with her patients when they would start to panic. Eponine observed her as Sister Marie worked, taking mental notes on the woman's bedside manner.

When she approached Enjolras's bed, she was not surprised to see the older man sleeping soundly. Despite his declarations, it was clear that he was still not well enough to leave the hospital.

She deposited the bag on the floor near her chair and sat down, pulling herself closer to the bed.

Eponine pulled the ribbon that she used to pull her hair back, letting the brown locks tumble down her face. She combed the ends with her fingers, relishing in the feel of cleanliness. The texture was rough but it had been ages since she had been able to run her fingers through it without encountering a twig or bit of straw.

She reached up as quietly as she could and placed a hand on Enjolras's head. It was still a little on the warm side, but nothing she was worried about. It was a vast improvement over the days previous.

His curls felt soft under her hand and an inexplicable part of Eponine felt jealous. It had been years since her hair had ever felt so soft. Even after her bath, her hair still felt like straw due to the neglect she had shown it over the years. Eponine couldn't help but run her fingers through his bangs, savouring the feeling and imagining what it would be like if she had the chance to take care of her hair.

It felt trivial, but to her, it was just another dream that would never come to fruition.

"It's not proper to play with someone's hair when they're sleeping, you know," Enjolras muttered, causing Eponine to pull her hand back quickly.

"It got tangled," Eponine muttered back, cradling the hand that had been playing with his hair to her chest, as if she was burned.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "That's life, I suppose," he said lightly before rubbing his eyes with his good arm. "How does Paris look?" He asked as he tried to raise himself into a sitting position.

Eponine moved to place a stray pillow behind Enjolras to help him sit up. "You would love it," she admitted. "There are revolutionary flags hanging out of windows and people are wearing rosettes."

"What of the police?" Enjolras pressed, his eyebrows furrowing. Talk of flags and rosettes was useless in the grand scheme of things if the people were being punished for it.

"Courfeyrac said that they're out of sorts. Mainly just arresting people on things like robberies and assaults."

"And treason?"

"No prison would have space for the amount of Parisians committing treason right now," Eponine retorted. "It's everywhere, Enjolras."

Enjolras pondered Eponine's statement and his face twitched in a small smile at the new information. "Well, we can only hope it stays like that. Any news of the rest of France?"

Eponine shrugged. "Courfeyrac didn't mention it," she replied. "He did, however, pick you some books," Eponine added as she bent over to lift the bag onto Enjolras's bed. "Just two or three, you won't be here much longer."

Enjolras grabbed the bag and dug through, ignoring the clothes in favour of the literature she offered.

"I picked out your clothes, you know," Eponine informed him with a teasing smile.

Blue eyes snapped to her. "You went through my wardrobe?"

"I know your sleeping habits, you don't need to feel embarrassed about your wardrobe."

"You hardly know my usual sleeping habits," Enjolras countered causing Eponine to shrug, the smile remaining on her face.

Enjolras shook his head and smiled slightly himself as he laid his head on his pillow. "Did you find anything of interest?"

"I really liked your floral waistcoat," Eponine commented.

Enjolras's eyes moved back to her. "My sister bought me that, you can hardly blame me for her horrid taste."

"I just said I liked it!" She exclaimed with a laugh.

"You're skilled at deception, Eponine, but not even the most seasoned liar could convince me they liked that waistcoat." Enjolras dug out a book from the bag and seemed to approve of Courfeyrac's selection. "Well, Jehan might like it."

"Maybe you can wear it if you have to rouse the farmers in Provence," Eponine joked.

Enjolras laughed loudly at that, startling Eponine. She had never heard the leader laugh before, but she found it to be a pleasant sound. His laughter was a sound of relief, like the weight of the world was being lifted from his shoulders, like he could finally be twenty-two again. His straight, white teeth gleamed as he smiled over at her.

"I think that Provence will be roused far before I could get there."

* * *

**A/N: I know I promised this wouldn't take this long, but I have a reason.**

**So, I was writing this chapter and was, like, 3500 words into it when I thought "… this should actually be chapter 16". So most of what I wrote is there. So I had to write this. And that's the story of chapter 15.**

**At least it's long, right?**

**Yeah, this chapter is almost 5500 words long. That's 1000 more words than the Cosette chapter, which was the longest before this.**

**…**

**Anyway, see the friendship blooming? There's only so long you can be cold to someone who literally wiped the sweat from your brow. Not like they're best buds or exchanging braided bracelets anytime soon, but it is what it is.**


	16. Hang On To Yourself

_It was dark behind the barricade._

_Eponine's chest ached from where she had bound her breasts, but it was easy to ignore. After all, the outfit was for the greater good. Marius's life was in danger and that was all she needed to know._

_She watched him closely, though he never seemed to see her there. She kept an eye on him, hoping that he didn't do anything irrational because of his grief over Cosette moving to England. _

_Eponine loved Marius, but she knew of his tendency towards the dramatics._

_A strangled scream came from beside her and she turned her head away from her beloved to see Joly clutching a bloodied hole in his chest. It was odd, she didn't even hear the gunshot._

"_Aren't you going to help him?" A voice asked in her ear. She turned to the person and was shocked to see Enjolras standing there. He was covered in filth, which seemed incredibly unlike the usually impeccable revolutionary leader, who always looked more like a statue than a human to her._

_Eponine nodded and hurried to her doctor friend, putting pressure on the wound without another thought. She had to focus. She had to do her job, complete her orders._

_There was a gunshot. This time Eponine heard it. Still, she focused on Joly. This is what she was meant to do._

_Suddenly, she was yanked up by her shoulders and spun towards the furious face of Enjolras. He was now drenched with water, as if he was standing in a downpour of rain that wasn't there._

"_Marius is dead," he stated firmly, his crystal blue eyes glaring at her. "Why? It was supposed to be you."_

_Eponine opened her mouth but no sound came out. Any apology she wanted to make was drowned out as the National Guard barrelled through the barricade, guns blazing and shooting everyone in sight._

_Enjolras still gripped her shoulders painfully as the National Guard shot him. "It was supposed to be you, Eponine."_

"Eponine? Wake up!"

Eponine shot up quickly, narrowly missing hitting her head off Enjolras's. Her brown eyes were wild as they took in her surroundings. They finally settled on Enjolras, who was looking at her with concern.

"Are you alright?" He whispered softly, trying not to rouse the other patients any more than they needed to be. "You were shouting."

"Was I?" Eponine asked as she ran her fingers through her hair absentmindedly, combing through the knots that had formed as she tossed and turned.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Quite loudly at that."

"It was just a nightmare," Eponine said softly. "You don't need to worry about me, Enjolras. I'm fine."

The first rays of dawn were drifting in through the gaps in the wood shutters the window. Enjorlas sighed. "Do you think you could open the coverings?"

Eponine nodded and let the morning light in their area, still distracted from her nightmare. It was nothing new. Since Enjolras's fevers had stopped and she had finally been able to sleep through the night, they had been coming with harsh regularity. She had tried to escape them through running errands for Enjolras in the day, but it hardly helped.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Enjolras's voice cut through Eponine's thoughts, startling her. Her nerves were still shaken from her nightmare.

Enjolras didn't sound particularly thrilled about the idea of talking to Eponine about her dreams. She understood. He still suffered from nightmares of his own, though they did not keep him up as they did Eponine. Instead, he would wake for a moment or two, regain his composure and fall back asleep.

Or at least pretend to sleep. Eponine wasn't completely sure which.

She would often ask him too if he wanted to discuss his dreams, only to be met with a harsh look and a firm "No." As such, she didn't think it fair to bother him with her own troubles.

"I'm fine, Enjolras," she assured him, trying to force a grin on her face.

"You said my name," he informed her bluntly as he ran his fingers across the cover of his book. "In your sleep, I mean. You said you were sorry."

Eponine shook her head silently. "You were there, that's all."

"What was I doing?" Enjolras pressed.

"It doesn't matter," Eponine whispered back, hating herself a little for not staying strong.

Enjolras nodded, clearly not believing her but he refused to meet her eyes. He scratched at the irritating scruff on his face. "What time are Les Amis coming to get me?"

Shrugging, Eponine picked up a book of her own. She was a horrific reader, her only practice years behind her but Enjolras didn't need to know that. She could really only make out a few words. "Combeferre said they'd be here around eight."

The two lapsed into silence for a while before Enjolras let out a sigh. "Eponine… I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank you for staying with me the past few days."

Eponine's eyes shot up. "Oh, Monsieur, you don't need to thank me. It's been my pleasure to stay here with you."

Enjolras examined her with those piercing blue eyes that made her squirm under his gaze slightly. She didn't know what it was about his stare that made her want to spill all of the secrets that she had worked for years to keep.

Perhaps the feeling was aggravated by the stress and fear that was budding up inside of her. Though the task was slightly surreal, taking care of Enjolras offered Eponine a sense of normality she never had the chance to feel.

Part of Eponine, a very selfish part, missed when Enjolras was ill. At least then, she had something to focus on. Since he became well, they spent most of their days in silence. She was desperately struggling to read the harder words in the books she fetched him most of the time, when she wasn't helping the nuns with menial nursing tasks.

Enjolras spent most of his time either trying to write inspirational messages with his left hand or snapping at anyone who happened to get too close.

They had brief conversations, mostly focusing on the future of France, but rarely ventured into the personal.

Now the day had finally come that Enjolras was officially allowed to leave the confines of the hospital and go back to his own apartment.

Enjolras was thrilled, though he barely showed any excitement, concerning the prospect of leaving. He had let out a heavy sigh when the doctor finally told him he was fit for travel a week after he had been brought in and even thanked the nuns who had helped him on the road to recovery.

Eponine, however, was less than thrilled. For her, leaving the hospital meant going back to the streets. Though the nuns often fussed over her, telling her that sleeping in a chair with her head resting on Enjolras's bed could hardly be the most comfortable sleeping situation, it was still a vast improvement over what she was used to. At least it was generally quiet in the sick bay, aside from when a patient was having a rough night, and at least there was a solid roof over her head. What more could she ask for?

"Nonetheless, you have been an incredible aid to me this last week," Enjolras reiterated. He paused and met her gaze again, holding it. "I appreciate it immensely."

Eponine couldn't help the flush that spread across her cheeks at Enjolras's words. His tone was laced with the same passion that he put into every action. It shocked Eponine, as Enjolras never seemed like the type of man to offer appreciation, though it wasn't the first time she had misjudged him. She doubted it would be the last.

It seemed as if she was doomed to be surprised by him.

Finally, Eponine smiled at him before the two lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Before long, Eponine found her thoughts turning to Marius, as they so often did, and a sharp pain coursed through her. It was becoming harder to remember the way he looked when he first moved next to her family. Every time her thoughts turned to that sweet boy, all Eponine could see was him laying in the shadow of the barricade, blood coursing out of his wound.

"Do you think that people are equal in the afterlife?" Eponine asked Enjorlas as she picked at the pieces of fuzz on his blanket.

"I think that everyone is equal in this life. They're just not treated that way." Enjolras replied solemnly.

Eponine nodded, almost unsurprised by Enjolras's answer. "I wish more people felt the way you do. Even among my own class, it is not overly common."

"They have been beaten down and oppressed, Eponine. The tyranny of the monarchy and the fear of the bourgeoisie have forced the working class to remain ignorant in a desperate attempt to stop any threat of a take over. Education is the next step in ensuring that every citizen gets an equal opportunity to gain fortune and power."

Enjolras settled his book on his good leg and levelled a firm look at Eponine. "You are an incredibly bright person, Eponine, with potential to live your life the way you want to. There are undoubtedly countless like you littered around this country and the world. It is only once all of you are given the same chance as the upper class that we can truly be a free people."

Shaking her head, Eponine leaned back in her chair. "No, Enjolras, I'm not smart at all. Not like you and Les Amis."

Sighing, Enjolras ran a finger along the embossed lettering on the spine of his book. "You are unfortunately under-educated, Eponine. Education has little to do with intelligence."

Eponine recalled similar words coming from Joly only a week ago. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps she could be smart if she only had access to education, although that dream seemed far out of her grasp.

"You're an incredibly odd man, Enjolras," Eponine stated bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Enjolras didn't flinch or even look affronted, almost like he was used to hearing the accusation. "Oh really?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"You grew up rich, right?" Eponine asked, unable to suppress her curiosity concerning the revolutionary leader anymore. Enjolras merely answered her with a single nod, his face straining slightly, as if he was ashamed of his upbringing. "Then why care what happens to the rest of us? You and the rest of Les Amis are privileged but you would throw it all away. You were willing to throw your life away. Why?"

Enjolras shifted slightly before regarding Eponine with the same intensity he had before. "First, we're not all privileged. Feuilly, for example, is," Enjolras hesitated for a moment, one hand curling in the sheet at the thought of his deceased friend. "Was an orphan of lower class parents. He worked hard for everything he earned," Enjolras explained sharply.

"Secondly, I would rather die working towards something larger than myself than enter a loveless marriage, bare spoiled brats and attend dinner parties until my final day. Les Amis agree with me," Enjolras quirked his lip slightly, his hand loosening. "It isn't about belief, Eponine. It's about humanity."

Eponine let Enjolras's words wash over her, letting them sink into her. She had never heard someone say such words, words that made her feel like she was worth something despite her horrible situation. Like she and her sister and Gavroche mattered to the world.

Suddenly, for a brief moment, Eponine wished she had listened to Enjolras's speeches instead of staring at Marius. Though Enjolras's methods were flawed, his intentions were good and perhaps that would prove to be enough.

"You are truly odd," Eponine repeated, though she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

Enjolras snorted before picking his book up again. "Perhaps one day, all of France will be as odd as me."

"I hope so," Eponine blurted out before she could suppress the words. Enjolras's eyes jolted back to her and a small smile crossed his face, but he thankfully said nothing. Enjolras turned his attention back to his book and Eponine tried to do the same.

Her reading skills were incredibly poor, due to under-education and lack of practice, but she still tried her hardest to make out the scribbles that littered the page. When that became too frustrating, Eponine decided to putter around the room, gathering the meagre belongings she had brought Enjolras from his apartment.

Eponine had made the trip to Enjolras's apartment a few more times since she first gathered his books. Since the first time Eponine ventured into the new Paris and normality was finally settling in. Merchants had opened their shops, businesses began to run and the bourgeois had finally left the safety of their homes. Though the topic came up every once in a while, the citizens largely ignored their lack of government, unable to comprehend the dramatic shift in power. Louis-Phillippe had never been a particularly well-respected King to many of the poorer citizens, so it wasn't a leap to ignore his absence as they did his leadership.

There was still the question of what to do with the former King. Many called for his execution. Those who studied the Revolution, or were old enough to remember it, were more fearful, anticipating another reign of terror.

"What do you think they're going to do with the King?" Eponine asked suddenly, causing Enjolras to slam his book shut instantly.

"I…," Enjolras began slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I think they'll probably execute him."

He stated this fact coldly, almost resigned to the fact.

"What about the rest of his family?" Eponine couldn't help but press.

Enjolras let out a heavy sigh. "Eponine, the people of France are angry. As they have every right to be," Enjolras added quickly. "I wouldn't be surprised if they demanded that the royal family pay in blood."

Eponine remained silent, causing Enjolras to examine her closely.

"It's tragic if the rest of the King's family are executed for his crimes but you have to keep an eye on the bigger picture. Overthrowing the monarchy is our best chance for equality," Enjolras continued.

Suppressing her snort of doubt, Eponine couldn't help but be reminded of how naive Enjolras could be. He was brilliant and passionate, but he had not suffered the same disappointments and hardships that many others in France had been subjugated to.

Though she was more hopeful for the future than she had been prior to the successes of the rebellion, Eponine still feared for the fate of France.

A large slam brought Eponine and Enjolras's attention to the door of the sick bay, where Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Joly burst through the door. There were broad smiles on their faces, though they were filthy. Joly was pushing an old wheelchair with him.

"What happened to you?" Eponine couldn't help but ask as she took in their frazzled appearance. The three young men had filthy faces and their clothes were in complete disarray, though that was nothing compared to their rumpled hair. Combeferre's glasses were still sitting crooked on his face.

"Slight riot in the streets," Courfeyrac shrugged, causing Combeferre to roll his eyes at his friend.

"What Courfeyrac means to say is that there has been some fighting between citizens and merchants lately," Combeferre explained, walking closer to Enjolras's bed. "The impoverished citizens don't think they should have to pay as much because of our impending equality. The merchants disagree."

Enjolras's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That doesn't sound right," Enjolras muttered under his breath.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged a quick look.

"Anyway, that's all done with now!" Combeferre exclaimed, clapping Enjolras on his good shoulder. "We're here to get you home!"

Courfeyrac snorted and smiled down at Enjolras. "Or at least to that cave of books you happen to sleep at sometimes."

Enjolras's shot Courfeyrac an annoyed glance, though his friend's joke seemed to temporarily take his mind off of the panic in the streets.

It didn't surprise Eponine one bit that people were fighting. Of course those who were better off weren't willing to share with her class, they never had been. Even when their donations would be the only thing between living and starving to death, most merchants seemed to turn a blind eye to the plight of their fellow citizens.

Why would that change just because of the rebellion?

There was a light rapping at the door, which caused Eponine to be jolted out of her pessimistic thoughts.

A blonde head poked around the door, greeting the four with a bright smile.

"Cosette!" Eponine exclaimed with surprise. She wasn't expecting to see the young blonde woman so soon, though there was a slight relief that coursed through her to see Cosette unharmed.

"Hello Eponine!" Cosette said happily with a small wave. She walked into the sick bay, offering small comforting smiles to the other patients she passed on her way to Enjolras's bed.

Valjean followed behind her closely, offering a more guarded smile to the revolutionaries.

"So you're Cosette, then?" Courfeyrac asked as he stepped closer to Cosette. He laid a kiss on the top of her hand before looking up at her with a sad smile. "I wish we had mocked Marius a little less. I believe I too would have fallen in love the moment I laid eyes on you had I been in that square."

The remark was not meant to be unkind or even flirtatious. Courfeyrac aimed to acknowledge the breadth of his dear friend's feelings, though it did cause the blonde to blush.

Eponine cast her eyes down.

"You fall in love with every girl you lay eyes on," Combeferre mocked as he pushed Courfeyrac aside. He mimicked Courfeyrac's action and laid a kiss on Cosette's hand. "Don't mind him, he means no harm," he said with a wink.

Eponine rolled her eyes and was surprised to see her action mirrored in Enjolras. Perhaps their week together had caused them to rub off on each other.

Eponine just couldn't figure out if she was rubbing off on him or vice versa.

"Would you stop bothering her?" Enjolras asked in frustration. "It's very nice to see you again, Mademoiselle," Enjolras said with a small nod and a polite smile.

Despite herself, Eponine felt a wave of jealousy wash over her. It wasn't fair, as Cosette couldn't help the reactions others had to her, but Eponine couldn't help it.

It seemed as if she was always doomed to be jealous of Cosette in one way or another.

"I could say the same to you," Cosette replied as she gave the revolutionary leader a small curtsey. "You're looking incredibly well," she added polietly as she approached Enjolras's bed. Her small steps were slightly unsure, as if she didn't know if her actions were correct. "Thank you again, Monsieur Enjolras, for risking your safety to deliver me Marius's letter."

"Thank you for aiding Eponine in deliberately disobeying me," Enjolras responded, though his words carried none of the venom they may have had a week ago. "And proving that I should never underestimate people."

Cosette smiled brightly at Enjolras with that statement. As someone who had generally been underestimated for the majority of her life, his declaration of her abilities were welcome words of encouragement for the young blonde.

Eponine twisted her hands together impatiently. She was desperate to hear about Cosette's meeting with Montparnasse. Guilt had plagued the gamine for the last week for allowing Cosette to pay the criminal his money by herself. She wasn't incredibly worried about what Montparnasse would do to the girl because as long as Cosette gave him what he was due, Eponine was sure that he would drop the matter.

It was the people Montparnasse associated himself with that Eponine was truly concerned about. If Babet had followed Montparnasse, Eponine Cosette would be safe, as Babet would never assault a woman.

The rest of the Patron-Minette was another story. Eponine was sure that Cosette would be able to out wit Gueulemer. The man was a fool, useful only for his considerable strength. However, Claquesous was a man to fear and Brujon was someone to be wary of. Both men would

However, the man Eponine was most worried about when Cosette was concerned was her father. If Thénardier came across Cosette, all hell would break loose. There was no way that Cosette would be able to come out of that situation unharmed. Eponine feared that even the possible intervention Montparnasse wouldn't be able to calm her father's lust for what he considered retribution.

Enjolras turned is attention to Valjean. "And I must extend my sincerest thanks to you, Monsieur Frauchelvent," Enjorlas said humbly. "Eponine told me your real name."

Valjean smiled tightly and one of his hands curled into a tight fist for a moment. No one seemed to catch the odd action aside from Eponine, who furrowed her brow. There was something off with Cosette's father and Eponine was starting to wonder just what that was.

"It was my pleasure, Enjolras," Valjean responded with a slight bow. "The Sisters have informed me of your fantastic steps on the road to recovery. No doubt part of this is due to the superb nursing of Mademoiselle Eponine," Valjean added with a slight nod to Eponine.

The brunette felt herself become flustered with the praise. It was rare that she was congratulated for something by her own parents, so for a father figure to award her such kind words caught her off guard.

"I didn't really do much, Monsieur Frauchelvent," Eponine contradicted. "Certainly not more than anyone else."

Valjean gazed down at Eponine with a certain fondness in his eyes. It was the sort of look only a father could give and Eponine felt her heart constrict.

She hadn't been privy to such a look since she was a child.

"I beg to differ, Eponine. No sense in modesty. You've done your country proud," Valjean pressed.

Eponine found herself unable to meet Valjean's eyes. She felt undeserving of his praise and "I was just wondering if I could speak to Cosette alone for a moment?" Eponine asked, receiving a curious look from Enjolras.

"Ah, the secrets of women!" Courfeyrac exclaimed merrily, though the joy did not seem to reach his eyes. It was almost like his joking tone was expected of him as opposed to him offering humour in earnest. "Must you tempt us with your mysteries?"

Valjean gave his permission to Eponine to sweep his daughter away with a small nod, though he looked wary at the prospect of his daughter being out of his sight.

Eponine smiled at him gratefully and led Cosette to a dark corner of the gothic-styled church.

"Did you meet with Montparnasse?" Eponine whispered hurriedly, not bothering to skirt around the issue at hand.

Cosette nodded and threw a panicked glance over her shoulder to ensure that her father wasn't listening.

Eponine waited a beat before realizing that Cosette wasn't going to elaborate on what had happened in the Jardin de Luxembourg. "Well?" She prompted, unwilling to wait any longer.

"It was fine," Cosette said softly with a wave of her hand. "We talked for a while, I gave him the money and then he walked me home."

"Montparnasse." Eponine said bluntly. "Montparnasse walked you home?"

Cosette simply responded with a shrug.

"And you're sure it was the same guy? Tall? Foreboding? Ornately dressed?"

Cosette couldn't help the small giggle that escaped at Eponine's disbelief. It echoed through the high ceilings, earning the duo a glare from three nuns who were praying in a nearby pew.

"Yes, I'm sure it was the same person. He's not the most inconspicuous man in Paris," Cosette assured Eponine, a small smile playing on her face. "Everything went perfectly fine. You needn't worry about me so much, Eponine. Despite everyone's lack of faith in my abilities, I can take care of myself," Cosette added, almost bitterly.

"Did he… try to seduce you?" Eponine asked awkwardly, eyeing the nuns to ensure they weren't paying attention to the inappropriate conversation.

Cosette looked affronted for a moment, clearly not comfortable discussing such things inside a church. Perhaps she was also put off talking about them with Eponine, a near stranger, someone who had used Cosette's secrets against her in the past.

"He was a little personal and told me he liked making me blush, but he seemed more like someone who wasn't taught the proper etiquette concerning personal space than someone out to seduce me," Cosette admitted before tilting her head slightly. "Why?"

It was now Eponine's turn to shrug. "Seducing bourgeois girls is one of Montparnasse's ways of stealing money," she stated simply, relieved that he hadn't tried his old tricks on Cosette. Though part of Eponine told her that she should just let Cosette make her own decisions concerning her life, with Marius dead, Eponine still couldn't help but feel responsible for Cosette's well-being.

It was an infuriating dichotomy.

Cosette wrinkled her nose, clearly finding Montparnasse's chosen method of obtaining profit distasteful. "Well, you needn't worry about that with me," Cosette assured Eponine before glancing around for Valjean again. "I doubt I'll ever see him again."

Eponine raised an eyebrow but said nothing. In her experience, Montparnasse generally wanted more from pretty girls than a reward and praise for a job well done. He wasn't satisfied until they were begging him to sweep them away from their boring, bourgeois lives and their horrific husbands.

Of course he never did that. He would simply smile, make promises he never intended to keep, then seduce them before robbed them blind as they slept. Sometimes Eponine would walk around Saint-Michele with him and spot the rich women glaring at him, their arms intwined with whoever their parents sold them to.

"They may hate me outwardly, but you just know they're willing to sacrifice their jewels for the few hours that I took them away from their mundane lives," Montparnasse would whisper in her ear as they passed these women. He would snake an arm around Eponine's shoulders and wink at the rich women, who would avert their eyes immediately. "They're jealous they can never be free like we are."

Eponine would revel in his words, at least before she met Marius and found her world view shifting. The idea that she could have something the upper class would never experience was liberating. Her life may be dark but it was hers and that was something that Montparnasse's women would never know.

However, that all quickly changed once Marius's kind eyes and freckled face took over her existence, making her yearn for wealth and propriety to impress the young student, even at the expense of the freedom that Montparnasse spoke of.

Eponine shook her head slightly, dispelling thoughts of Marius and Montparnasse. Perhaps he really was finished with Cosette. Montparnasse was known in the Patron-Minette for being lazy and he often cycled through girls with little thought. At least, he generally disregarded the girls that weren't Eponine.

Montparnasse's feelings for her weren't even close to love, but they were as close as the murderer got. Eponine accepted this as a gift, knowing that his affections were guarantee of her safety in their underground world because no one ever crossed Montparnasse and came out of it unscathed and they certainly never took anything that was even remotely his.

Valjean approached them, looking at the two girls oddly. "Cosette, it's time we went home."

Cosette's face fell. "Oh, Papa, can't we see Enjolras to his home?" She asked, a slight hint of begging lacing her tone.

Valjean's jaw tightened slightly at the question, one hand twitching slightly. Eponine regarded Valjean suspiciously. He met her gaze, causing Eponine to glance away quickly.

There was definitely something odd about Cosette's father.

"No, Cosette," Valjean said shortly, wrapping his arm around his daughter. "Good day, Eponine," Valjean nodded before steering Cosette out of the church.

Cosette glanced longingly over her shoulder at Eponine, who still lingered behind before the heavy wooden door slammed behind them.

Eponine sighed. She recognized the lonely gleam that shone in Cosette's eyes as Valjean ushered her away and felt a pang of sympathy. If Eponine knew one thing, it was how it felt to feel alone.

Though bitterness still clung to her when it came to Cosette, she had to admit that the blonde had surprised her. She was not the uptight, bourgeois girl that Eponine had assumed her to be. Her bravery intrigued Eponine and she couldn't help but wonder what else laid inside the Lark.

As Eponine made her way back to Enjolras's room, she wondered if she could forge a bond with Cosette. Would it be possible? Once Enjolras was in the comfort of his own home, she would be back out on the streets, or worse, in her parents' house.

Still, perhaps if she ever saw Cosette again, Eponine would try to say hello. She would help Cosette in her loneliness. It would be what Marius would want.

"So," Combeferre began once Eponine walked back into the sick bay, a large smile crossing his face. "Shall we get you home, Enjolras?"

* * *

**A/N: Okay, sorry for the long wait again! I'm in hell right now, school-wise. There are nights I barely manage to cook dinner, let alone sit down to write. One shots are about all I can manage, but if you dig my writing, check them out.**

**Updates will likely be scarce for the next few weeks, unfortunately. I'm really sorry but school's over around April 20th, so there's that to look forward to!**

**I'm not so sure about this chapter even though it took forever for me to post. There's a lot going on.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews! I'll admit, I didn't reply to them this go around because I didn't know when I would be able to update but they do mean a lot to me. I think my updates should be able to come more quickly now because I think the heavier days have passed?**

**I have a Grantaire/Eponine/Enjolras one-shot up at AO3 under this same user name you might be interested in. Also check out 'Glam Punk Disco', a gen fic that's ridiculous but might make you smile a bit. I've got a few others on the go while I figure out where to go next when it comes to this story, including a couple of everyone's favourite mixed review couple, Cosette/Montparnasse! And pretty much everyone/everyone.**

**Don't fret, though! This will be completed. I think we've reached about the half-way point. This chapter was actually going to be longer than this but things got out of control so what I had planned will have to wait.**

**Thanks for your continuing support!**


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